Wednesday, June 10, 2009


If by some strange turn of events, you didn't notice me switching to wordpress, then take this note as a notice to the wise :P

Blogger users/inferior beings, please change blogroll links to

Same for google reader users, switch!

Saturday, June 6, 2009



Friday, June 5, 2009

A Question of Chivalry

Would you hit a girl? Stop looking at me like that. I didn't do nuthin'. Just wondering whether that whole thing about not hitting a lady applies what with all the feminazis and dykes around chipping away at it.

And as we all know, I have a stellar record with regard to women's rights.


But! I shall post an 'article' by my guest poster, Dr. Black Rapper,( MA, BS, YA, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH). Dr. Rapper is a freelance lecturer on sociology and has been heard by an audience of many millions. He is an expert on bitches.

Whence came this tradition of harming not a hair on a person of the female persuasion?
What? You think all black people talk like they've got a komodo dragon gnawing it's way down their throat? You female-dog buttock fair-skinned ones are all the same, mentally inept buttock those-who-procreate-with-the-female-parental-unit...

But that is besides the point. Through extensive study of the search engine variety, I came to the conclusion that the internet is indeed full of porn. You cannot innocently search for 'man banging wife' without being assaulted by content of a less than family friendly nature. So I just assumed that the notion came about in the distant past when women were considered all weak and shit. Lesser beings and whatnot. But has the story not changed now? It is fair to believe that most reasonable people are sans bias with regard to sexes.

So it follows that both men and women will be treated equally in all spheres of life. And one of these spheres is Mortal Kombat the act of expressing violence. All of us, except those who are strangely predisposed to the teachings of various religious figures or tiny bald men in lungis, will strike back at someone who has struck us. Or at least fend off attack in an almost-offensive kind of way. We try to disable the attacker, especially when the attacker is in a state of such boiling anger that global warming activists set up shop around him for heating up the planet. That is, anti-global warming activists, not the ones who are pro-'let's turn earth into a sauna'. But yes, most people would attack any attacker of the same sex.

But imagine if you were being attacked by a female. You being male, that is, since females attacking females just ends up in a shrieking mass of blurry fingernails rolling about on the floor. Somewhere along the line a camera will show up.

If a male is attacked by a female, he would, most likely, use as little force as possible. Only using the force necessary to keep the attacker at bay. I know I would. I cannot help it. It's just hard to get over that conditioning of "don't hit a girl". I would certainly not react in the same way as if a male was the the one doing the assaulting.

What say you, females? Let's face it, the average male is physically capable of overpowering the average female. So it follows that in most of these encounters, the male would come out on top. No, that is not supposed to imply something. Get your minds out of that disgusting gutter. Should the same treatment be meted out to males as well as females?

Thursday, June 4, 2009

So I was thinking(again)

I can't really remember what the last 'So I was thinking' post was about. No, that isn't what I'm thinking about either. I just created a wordpress blog and hell, WP is brilliant! It's practically Google Analytics in the dashboard, with some added extras. So I will probably be switching to that permanently. I would also like to know if anybody has a way to export blogger posts to WP. I feel like I've discovered chocolate after eating cocoa powder for so long, believing it to be bounty from heaven.

Twitter is strange. It's kind of addictive, yet we(the 'locals') use it not for its intended purpose but as a mini-chat like thing. It's a great big orgy of instant messaging. Whenever you go to sleep or work, anything that takes you away from the internet, you feel this strange... feeling... of being disconnected. It's like waking up in the middle of the night, to find yourself sleeping on the floor. You know things have happened, but you're not quite sure what they are. For example, leave @stfallen and @papareboy alone in the wee hours of the morning, and you find all sorts of words like 'Pani Bunis' and 'I don't love you anymore!!!111' floating around when you log on in the morning. Thoroughly disorienting when you expect things like "Going to work. Boring day" or at the least "Whackster looking for attention of the troll-ish persuation. Yawn".

At least now we know to stay away from people like @pseud0random who tweet saying "My favourite past time is to push little girls off their bikes and steal them". The bikes, not the little girls. Oh, now we know where LLD gets all that insider info on bloggers. Sneaky.

Sabby has yet again abandoned my blog I see. I have proof! Google reader tells me that there are only a few dozen hits from the middle east, and most of them come from Google keywords of the anti-flying machine variety. Flight simulator, bomb, hijack, U-235 decay rates, AK-47 suppliers and 'Airline Food Menus From Around The World' feature quite high on the list.

Speaking of menus, this small cafe thing just opened up across the road from where I work. T'was quite an adventure going into it. The lone table inside was surrounded by about five people. As soon as they saw me, they sprung up and dispersed, giving me a "you just HAD to come in here, didn't you? If you don't order for at least two, we'll take you to the Zionist thing back there and do Zionist things to you." Zionist sounds like something Dr. Evil would make up. Whatever it is... *looks up in wikipedia. Ohhhh.... But then why is it practically right next to some Islamic girls' school? That's just asking for it. Females already dressed for some ninja action just a wall away.

Anyway, I walk up to the counter and this dude who looks like he has a subscription to "Linux Illustrated" stares back at me, beard and all. I meekly as for two little burger things and a cup of black currant juice. Get a feeling of various eyes boring into me. Look around to see the previous knights of the round plastic table draping themselves on various fixtures around the room. A doorway would bring me a curious look, the far end of the counter suddenly looks away, pretending to stare at the items on display.

I take my eatables to the table and eat. Quickly. Stuff it all in my mouth and get up. Hurry outside.

I don't look back and hightail it back to work. I don't think I'm going in there alone again.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Bitch Please,

You ain't got nothin to go on...

Meh... that's about as far as I got.

It's pointless getting into an argument with a retard who wouldn't know sanity if it bit him in the ass.

Airtel can go DIAF

As you might have read, I've been using Airtel for a while now. Still switch back to dialog occasionally, but primary is now the 'tel.

Airtel sucks ass.

Somehow, I expected them to be better. I mean, is it too much to expect decent service from one of the largest telcos in the world? Is it just me or is Airtel challenging me to find a crappier service? I mean, even Hutch, the 'beggar network' isn't this bad. I make a phonecall and I'm certain there will be some disturbance eventually. It recovers, but a few seconds are unintelligible. About 20% of calls get cut off eventually, and a disturbing percentage of the time, the thing doesn't even work at all. Through all this, switch to dialog and everything's fine.

Weird thing is, even on the tel, the signal strength is usually full, but it still sucks. GPRS usually disappears after a few hours till you restart the phone, and data transfer is painfully slow a lot of the time.

Now there have been rumours about them not getting their fair share of bandwidth or something, but well, they ARE rumours, and I'm not really inclined to believe them.

Formal Apology to NB

I accept that you are much more intelligent than I tho-


I'm not fortunate enough to have as much restraint as some other bloggers. Sorry.

Looks like someone's got my pics off facebook. Now which of you fools accepted a friend request from a seemingly hot female circa-last month?

Neanderthal, Please go DIAF.

First of all, those are horrible pictures of me. But I examined my face in the mirror while shaving today and was reassured that I am still quite dashing. The moisturizer advanced formula for skin enhancement seems to be doing its bit. Also the plastic surgeons :P

*wipes a tear

*"He could've asked for better ones, the bastard"

Btw, DIAF is an acronym. Die, In, Fire, A - Put these words into order and you'll get the meaning. I'm quite confident that the cipher I've used on that is quite NB-proof. Sort of like idiot-proof but just a lot simpler. Now content that I have sent our resident retarded kid on yet another Google Adventure in which he might stumble across the forests of the Urban Dictionary, the post.

Dear One-who-is-yet-to-realize-his-retardation,

The only thing you have accomplished as far as I'm concerned is... nothing. Oh no, how could that be? Quick! To the starship to google another name! You also seem to be somehow connected to me by way of some misguided friend of mine. Copying my pics off facebook before I finally got round to changing the privacy settings on my skeletal profile was genius was it? I can't be arsed to go through each of my(limited number of) friends to seek out probable suspects since I actually have a life. But hey, like fallen said, you seem to have all the time in the world, you could do it for me. I'll give you a gig of porn? Sound like a good deal? Of course it is! What one handed typist would refuse such a deal eh? Also, fallen- he wouldn't know what to do with a time machine man, the guy would probably use it as a prop for his star trek shrine.

What I don't understand is, how I'm supposed to be an anonymous blogger when nearly every blogger I read knows my full name. Hell, more people call me Jerry than Gerald in real life. Surely publishing my full name in various posts constitutes non-anonymousness? After struggling with the vile serpents of your mother's basement, you might pull your head out of your ass long enough to notice We don't care. We know you're a fraud, you've spewed enough lies to fill three houses of parliament and you seem to have all the intelligence of a pedestal fan. At least a fan actually serves a use, rather than sitting at a PC generally making a dick of yourself on the blogosphere. Can you even turn your head from side to side while making a whirring noise? Scratch that, can you even give us your real name?

How does a '31 year old' act so retarded? Are you just some 13 year old who gets abused all day? Looks like you don't even go to school, judging from your posting, Mr. Jarabaraas 'Time is not of the essence' Bawa.

As for the rest of your 'points', don't make me laugh, ya schmuck. How does it feel to not amount to anything on the web either? The internet, home of those who pretend to be tough behind a monitor. If you can't make it here, you can't make it anywhere. Tough luck kiddo, try IRC. But be warned, it's full of people who actually know what 'tracing' means. That leaves... Oh yeah, the title.

Please go crawl into bed with Swine flu, should fit you perfectly,

Oh, this post was supposed to be Airtel, DIAF. But then this little vermin showed up. Will do that post later.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Lies 5.0 - Web of Lies

You might have heard that we went to the beach again. This time, the directions were even worse than at the bachelor's thing. It's only saving grace was that it was in the daytime. Another difference was that MoM was around too so I had to stay clear of buying any refreshment for fear of the shopkeeper carefully considering the Mario-Brothers like look on the mess-aiya's face and having a sudden negative discount sale.

After being intercepted by St. Fallen, being told that we suck because we didn't find the place five minutes earlier(they just don't make saints like they used to) and finally reaching the place, we sat. Coke. Drink. Stuff.


Eventually, we go sit out on the beach, whacko arrives, we find it hilarious that papareboy goes off looking for his phone when we all saw it had fallen out of his pocket when he sat down. We hid it. Then MoM, being the tattletale that all females are, went and dragged papareboy, who was by now asking the waiters whether they had seen anyone steal it, back to the beach and gave him his phone. Spoilsport. She has now gone down a few notches in reputation points for all males, except for papareboy, but nobody cares what he says anyway.

We get kicked off the beach because it was being used as a landing site for invading barbarian hordes or something. I have a sneaking suspicion the waiter just made it all up.

Get to a more civilized location via the whackmobile, which had managed to traverse the dense jungle to get to this god forsaken patch of beach. Get to majestic city, do a circuit of the upper floors(I might note that papareboy looked as if he'd been doing it all his life, and made comments along the lines of "Oh gawd, we're 'MC dudes' aren't we? Oh man this sucks, I mean like, wh would ever be an MC dude? Jeez, not me, definitely not me...."), head to the food court and get ice cream.

It was fun eating things in front of papareboy, who seemed to have eaten something dirty and gotten his stomach in a twist for two months and hence couldn't eat a thing. We all commented on how yummy everything was.

Should go again sometime.

Friday, May 29, 2009

So We Watched Wolverine Again...

First, the tag from SI - Five that came in a tag -
  1. Indifference
  2. Indifference
  3. Indifference
  4. Indifference
  5. Relief
And the post,

Papareboy, being his usual late self, said he hadn't watched Wolverine yet. So off we went along with the guy who keeps falling in a plethora of ways(Always wanted to use plethora. Was just reminded of it at the last open mic. yay). Wolverine is so much more fun when you replace the characters on screen. Hugh Jackman also looses much of his appeal whe he just leaves Deli- Kaitlin to bleed to death. We also got to see Cyclops doing his thing and fumbling about blindly, just like in the other movies.

Oh, and we also discovered something else. Since we had a few minutes to waste before the movie started, we decided to call on a certain someone who's been asking us to drop by in that area. But, try as we might, we couldn't find anything remotely resembling what was described, no matter how far we walked. What truly put us in a conundrum was the fact that none of the area residents had ever even heard of the place. Surely we couldn't have been fed lies?

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Untiled-(I don't know how many)

Looks like I'm going through a dry spell. I can't think of anything to jot down here. Even now my attention is split between alternately typing a sentence and eating breakfast. I have to be careful not to get the chocolate on my fingers.

I need drama people. I need something to write about. Be it a flame war or a war-war. Maybe someone should post on some irrelevant topic like uh... Global warming or some other thing nobody really cares about. And then somebody should pretend to care and we can all get in a big fight, complete with expletives from one corner, threats from one, oh-so-aloof posts about it from another and carebear stares from Gehan.

There. Managed to finish eating with just slight stickiness on thumb. Hopefully the next person to use the PC will clean the keyboard.

ALSO. I am not mean. Going 'Who the hell are you?' at being introduced to someone is acceptable when you've just arrived at some place at night, after being out the whole day, to be told that your ticket has not been purchased yet, and there ARE none to be purchased. Well it should be.

It is a sad day for me. I just got left at the altar and even divorced. The ex, a certain blogger obsessed with small mostly edible fruits, got Hugh Jackman. I got the strippers form the hen party. Anybody want two male strippers best described as... well... male, Just barely?* At least they're enthusiastic. Just sign in to twitter and DM @pseud0random, who seems to be the pimp around those parts.

So, get cracking. I can't wait around all week for you bunch to start hacking at each other with rubber ducks.

Did I mention how global warming sucks? I even saw a t-shirt which said "Al Gore didn't invent the internet, but he DID invent global warming". I mean, who believes that stuff anyway? Tree huggers and hippies? Probably because they think they'll have to take a bath one of these days if it gets any warmer. I'm selfish. My kids can ask away about why we didn't do anything to stop it. Hell, they could have carrot red skin. Who cares? It'll be fun to watch the little buggers being chased around by bulls.

Anyone wanna take up the bait?

P.S. - I need somebody else to keep referencing in my posts instead of Gehan, as it seems I call upon him for every other post. I need to diversify. Any candidates for that too?

*Names may or may not include 'Papare' and 'Hish'.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009


Delilah and that runt Fallen have been discussing my 'sweetness' for some time now. I think it now deserves it's own topic, like #jerryssweetness or something. Now I have definite proof that under this hard, oh-so-manly and stare at me wrong and you die exterior, I am 'sweet'. In a good way.

Rats eat through my clothes in the night. I carelessly leave a few items lying around the room and some vile creature turns it into a gourmet dinner. I'm left with clothing best described as "well ventilated". I will need help in capturing this thing. The THING probably knows it. Don't you? Heck, you're probably on first name basis with em. I will need a mousetrap. A RAT trap. Nay! A bear trap, to capture the creature which had the gall to eat MY clothing! It must be massive. No other being would dare irk me.

Yes, that must be it. A giant bear-rat that's been ravaging the townspeople.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

So, OM 2

Yeah, I'm making a second post. No reason, just to uh... clarify?

So there I sit, leaning against the wall, listening to some more poetry. Load up twitter. Eventually receive previously mentioned "BERRY!" text. Dread. Look around a bit, scanning the crowd. Can't look at many faces for fear of some enraged harpy staring daggers at me.

See Gollum next to me, in a green shirt. He takes out phone. Nokia. The phone of choice for the dark forces. Forward Berry message to him, adding "Somewhere in this room is the person who sent me that message. She has the ring". He looks around, drools. Fails. Never was much good at anything, that useless little $#&#^%!@#...

End of OM, walk over to whack. I'm wearing a _blue_ shirt. See him beckon, blah blah blah, DeeCee hobbles over, wearing many rings on fingers. Gollum goes crazy, starts tugging at her fingers, DC and Gollum locked in combat over toy ring gotten out of cereal box. Whack starts selling tickets to fight.

Dee kicks Gollum in the family jewels, escapes with horrendous looking scar on arm. Runs over St. Fallen in desperate getaway in car.

And THAT, my friends, is the true story of how your grandma met the president.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Dinner and of Stalling In The Act Of Deciding Where To Go After-Syndrome

Went for this kottu party thing a friend told me about yesterday. Met a hellava lot of people, half of who I can't really remember.

A bunch of old friends and some new people.

Findings :

  • Dinidu De Alwis is schizophrenic. Do not believe his blog. Hell, I never read past more than four lines on his posts, afraid of getting lost in all the government this-government that. It was like that last level in a game that you're just not sure you can play yet. The dude is insane. In a fun, good way.
  • I can keep talking about nothing in particular for a long time. Without any external stimulants. Unless kottu counts.
The minute I show up I see papareboy and who appeared to be his brother. I am later told that this other person was Mr. Alwis. I prepare myself for a night of listening to a constant newsreel like commentary on who was screwing(figuratively) whom in power/government/religion.

Well it was different. Again. First DC and now this guy. Even pavithri wasn't doling out hugs, contrary to her tweetings and much to everyone's chagrin. She called me mean. As if I could ever be anything less than gentlemanly. The only minor offenses I committed were asking The Puppeteer whether she wasn't supposed to be in a kitchen somewhere and splashing water on a certain curly haired, sexually confused journalist.

It was a fun night.

Now, about SITAODWTG syndrome. We experienced this firsthand yesterday. Actually, we created it firsthand. The first hand coming from one of us who finally got around to saying 'This is getting boring now, let's move on to somewhere else". Then a slew of other hands came in and stirred it up, mixing and kneading the question of "Wher to go?" into "So yeah, I'm fine with anything. You tell us.". And so everyone was fine with anyplace, except the place we were already in. That's not to say anybody could've just suggested a location and everyone would have agreed. Not so simple. It has to be a place that's interesting enough. We SAY we're willing, but we just want someone to magically read our minds and gauge our mood for a suitable location.

We were undecided for a few hours.

EDIT : Retitled due to gehan thinking it was a meetup of everyone on, and not the actual... food. Yes, laugh at him, people.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Open Mic

Went for last Thursday's Open Mic. After a lot of hullabaloo about the war, celebrations for ending of said war and some other stuff about st. fallen's suicidal tendencies being brought out through a 'poem' about glasses full and half full of poison, I recieved a text.

A strange text. From a strange number.

A text with a single word in it.

A word that made me jump. A word that took me by the scruf of the neck, pushed me against the wall and said, 'I'm female'.


I look around the room. A sea of faces in an ocean of... attentiveness? I'm not too sure. What with getting linked on the great RD's blog, I feel like I'm expected to come up with 'sophisticated' one liners and put downs every other line. It's quite taxing. Almost drains you of anything funny you had to start with.

Since Delilah seems to be the most frequent offender for usage of that word, I wonder if she's around. Log onto twitter. See if anybody is on who's been mobile tweeting. Nothing of interest. Strange. Nothing much of interest after that till-

After it was over, Mr Whackster beckons to someone in a manner saying 'Come aney, he's not going to bite you'. Somebody comes. Somebody is introduced as Delilah. I go D: . Then somebody else grins, not Delilah. DeeCee! And er... I'm sorry, I can't live up to your 'Be all sarcastic and make me look all...'. I just can't. There's nothing to write. A few seconds of exposure just doesn't give me enough to go on, especially when you're about as interactive as a wall, and not a revolving, hidden door-sy wall. Suffice to say, she was... different.

After that and after a brief ride in the whackmobile, I was off home. All in all it was pretty good. Fallen says it was the best we ever had. I'll take his word for it.

Speaking of 'Best I ever Had', I finally heard Gehan singing. Yes, just yesterday. And... he was pretty good.

There. A coompliment. A real compliment.

See? Miracles _do_ happen :P

Of Stereotypes

This line,

Dark skin. Prime suspect, if previous bombers are to be considered.
This got a bunch of people yelling "RACIST! RACIST!" at me. That was one of those lines that you write while thinking "This is one of those lines that'll be taken in the wrong way by some people." But you still post it. Because you stand by it. Me saying that is not racism. Me saying that is merely an educated guess on what skin colour a potential suicide bomber would have. It's just a feature.

Now even I don't think every dark skinned or tamil person is a bomber. But look at it in the context of the post, and you will see that its just... well... me noticing things. Just like the pregnant woman thing. Not all pregnant women are bombers are they? I play up the paranoia in the post, and what better skin colour than dark to use? If we were in america, I would've used an islamic man.

The people who get offended at that line are probably the same ones who have "Embrace Diversity" plastered all over their workplaces.

I'm off to write the next post. All ya haters can bite my ass

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The War's Supposed To Be Over?

So there I was in the bus again, heading to work. Sit down in the seat opposite the door, flick out phone and start looking through Twitter. After a while the woman next to me, in the aisle seat, get up and is replaced by a pregnant lady. What with all the flags and things, I couldn't help thinking about bombers. Specifically, a pregnant woman who went boom at the army hospital. Now I know they're all dead and surrendered up north, but did anyone tell the tigers down in Colombo about that?

*shifty eyes*

So I try to look at her through the corner of my eye. Dark skin. Prime suspect, if previous bombers are to be considered. Though one can't be sure, as there's not much skin left to go by after a bomb, and those who were close enough to notice aren't really in a position to comment. Deciding that I didn't want people adding a 'Bless his soul' after mentioning my name just yet, I turn ever so slightly.

To check out her chest.

Now, this is no easy task even when many meters away, and is almost impossible when you're right next to a person. There was also the chance of her getting so pissed off she'd blow me to bits just for that. Were suicide bombers taught enough discipline and restraint to wait for the proper target(s) even in the face of perverts?

Catch a microsecond long glimpse.

Doesn't _seem_ to be wearing anything looking vaguely like a vest. Try to take another look and see that there are three women standing right next to her. They look angry. Thoughts running through my head wondering whether they saw me trying to sneak a look. After a minute or so of sweating it out while staring straight out the window, I start thinking 'God. I've been relatively good to you, never killed anybody or anything like that, don't let me dieeee... I have plans! Things to do! You ca-'

Was it just me or was my walkman's volume a few notches higher now? I listen to the words. "If you were dead or still alive, I don't care, I don't careeeeee!"

Mortified. Damn Adam Gontiere and his stupid song. Damn him to hell.

Just to make sure, he adds "I swearrrr!"

After much shaking of hands and plans of mad dashes to the door, I feel a stare burning into the back of my neck. Turn around to see the pregnant woman gone, and replaced by one of the three witches. She was staring at the back of my head.

Oh well, strange, offended woman is better than strange, about to blow up woman. Offended women can be ignored. A bloody big bomb can't be. All's well, God exists, and he likes to scare people.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

And then the sun shone through...


I'm sorry, that's about all the dramatic-ity I can muster. The rest of my meager reserve was spent on walking up to an abandoned street stall in Borella and asking the old man there(See? Old man. Old. That has to be at least a little dramatic, right?) for a flag. Ever opportunistic, they still overcharged for it. Either way, there's none left to expend on my already shaky writing.

It's like living in a weird-everydays-christmas like place right now. At the moment I'm getting more or less the entirety of the president's speech texted to me by the Daily Mirror news service. Firecrackers going off sporadically. People on the streets. I have to stay cooped up in here. I wanna go wave a few flags, dammit! I have the right to wrestle with some old lady for a prime spot by the pavement to grin at passing vehicles!

I will arm myself with a keyboard instead.


It just. Doesn't. Feel. The. Same.

The fighting's all over. People keep asking what we're going to talk about now. As if there isn't enough to talk about now that people have stopped getting their legs whipped out from under them by a mean man named claymore. What do you think people in other countries talk about? India didn't get that highly populated without a few solid conversation starters. And I doubt men in China went about with a Tiananmen square pickup line.

Go back to the default topics. These are for males. Slightly alter and you get females.
  • Small children - Toys/starring in America's Funniest Home Videos
  • Teenagers - Females
  • Young men - Work/Females
  • Middle age - Family/Work/Starring in America's Funniest Home Videos
  • Seniors - Females
For women, just replace "females" with "shoes".

I mean, I can't remember the last time I talked about the war. Save for the getting flag bit, it never came up in conversation for at least a few weeks.

WOOO!!!! Tomorrow is a national holiday!

I have to go rejoice! Will finish this post later. I hope.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Good Monday Everyone. Smileys.

It's another Monday. Eurch.

I like smileys. Not that I go overboard with them or anything. ;) ;) :P

But one smiley which I regard with utter contempt is... is... it is one which mocks you, confuses you and makes you question yourself over and over again.


That blasted thing. What is it doing? Grinning widely, but also winking. Try doing that with your face. Now try to not look like a retard. You are told that the user of this smiley is grinning, but then when you see the wink, you wonder if that really is the case. For all we know, they might be winking just to tell us "You're not funny, but I'm grinning anyway just to stop from being uncomfortable". Or even "Haha, I'm laughing AT you, not WITH you, fool". A mischievous grin? is that it? But would ;) not suffice?

Bah, I don't care.


Friday, May 15, 2009

Oh the drama!

--Post Removed--

Not because of anything that retard calling himself NB did, just that it feels somehow... dirty having that post up.

Oh, it's still available for sale at your request :P



Oh well, you get the gist of it. Fine, so maybe I typed quite a bit more than required to 'ge the gist of it'. Sue me. :P
People who've posted pics on their blogs earlier > This creep was probably around for a while, so he probably copied em or something. He might post them.

Other info like location, workplace and family will be accessible only if you've blogged about them. Important thing is, do not be alarmed. He's just a seriously retarded person who thinks he's being awfully smart with all this. Maybe he'll get off on all the attention and, as he says 'bugger off'. And by seriously retarded I mean split personalities and shit. I mean, it takes a special kind of person to make multiple blogs, each opposing the other, and then post a shitload of comments from adoring fans. I honestly believe he needs treatment. EDIT : He is not a hacker, nor does he have a friend who 'hacks'. He wouldn't talk like he copied dialogue off the movie 'Hackers' if he knew anything much.

But you know what's worse? People who believe it all.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Getting Attention

I've been feeling pretty neglected on the blogosphere lately, what with most trolls ignoring me and even that other douche seeming to pick Gehan over me. Highly distressing when you thrive on hits.

So to rack up some pageviews and generate some troll-fodder, I present to you my latest post on what people are saying.

Let's see.

Drag up Gehan's blog for a blogroll. His own blog has some sob story about him crying or something. Speaking of, I still haven't heard him sing :/

Moving on to the blogs, DC has something about a Japanese fetish. And something to do with rats. A rat, rather.

Charm Bracelet is closing up. Oh well, more hits for me. But I still think it's pretty pointless leaving.

Pseudorandom is having a Bad Day. She's listening to 'Let Her Cry' by Hootie and the Blowfish. Maybe that's why. And the title is clearly a Daniel Powter song, and not, say for example, Fuel. It's so "E-FM... All the time".

D has posted again, but only to tell us she shouldn't be posting. She makes a few solid points such as me having to be more careful with messages and girls being fun to look at. But then she goes a bit off and says she misses Sabby. I mean, who misses HER? Certainly not any of us.

Scrump has a post on the significance of 'x'. Must be some secret code by women to taunt us. See, signals like that don't work unless the dude you're sending them to knows what it means. Apparently all women know this. Except for scrump. Signs of a hairy 40-year old hiding behind a keyboard pretending to be a 20-something 30-something female?

Next up is RD. Something about writing. Long post, and I'm not in the mood to read it all. Pic of a written page. So I skim through it. I see something about Pubs, then a claim of "I'm gay and I hate all you English bastards.". I can't really say I knew that, but the moisturizer did throw some doubts that way.

Then there's T. Click and it's all black and gray. This taking quotes out of context thing is fun. Like "Clearly I have a problem selling myself.".

And then I got bored. That's it for now till I get round to writing a proper post.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Unfortunate Events

Yesterday Evening -

You know those moments when everything seems just right? Those times when you've just got back from a tiring day, and decide to just chill? Just chill out with some good music and something to munch on.

Well, I'm having gone of those right now. Working my way through yet another box of assorted chocolates, gnawing through the caramel inside some of them. The score provided by an album called the Flying Carpet(No, not the Aladdin soundtrack). Bliss. Bliss that _you_ can't have. Which makes it even more blissful. I'm so blissfully blissful that I could just buy a motorbike, ride across the country with bliss and get a t-shirt that says "If you can see this, Bliss fell off" on the back.No troubles exist for me. Work tomorrow? No problem. Almost broke? I don't care. Chocolates. Stumbled upon a serial killer's kidnap victim trapped in a basement, who I'm supposed to alert the authorities about? Tch. I cannot concern myself with such petty squabbles.

*I pause. Send a message to a certain someone. MyPhoneExplorer>Last Message>Reply*

I vaguely remember The WhacksteRRR going on about something or the other. His imagination running off with a dead man or something like that. Though a word to the wise dude, those undead ca-


'Oh, speaking of the devil, here he calls. Wonder what's up.'


I'm momentarily distracted by my mom, then eventually listen to what he's saying. I start to hear the contents of my last message read back to me.


Panic, because the message, that blasted message, was something you do NOT send to another male friend. Under no circumstances do you let anyone get a peek of a message that throws light on your carebear-ey side. And here I was, listening to the contents of one such message being recited to me. Multiple times, for some reason :P

I contemplate telling him it was a prank, that I was kidding him. But the contents would be hard to explain. Thoughts of explaining that I'd recently turned to the rainbow-coloured side and that I was madly in love with him briefly crossed my mind. ANYTHING would be better than somebody else being in possession of that message.

We kid around and he agrees to be agreeable. For absolutely no compensation. Oh yeah, there was something about he being in my posts in a positive light but all that was just minor details. I also kiddingly added that he should return the message to me so that I could mail it to the correct recipient. But lo and behold, I get it back from him after the phonecall. So now I have a lovey-dovey message from him too. Heh. Still, it's not quite the same.

So, phonecall ended.

I vaguely remember The WhacksteRRR going on about something or the other. His imagination running off with a dead man or something like that. Though a word to the wise dude, those undead ca-

All hail TheWhacksteR.

Moral of this story : ALWAYS verify who you're sending your messages to, and Whacko is great.

Sunday, May 10, 2009


Heh, how's THAT for a title, eh kids? :P

If you're wondering what it means, it means you're not samrt like me. But I'll explain anyway. See, a lot of people on kottu are acting all depressed and waxing lyrical about how people do strange things and pain being everywhere. Much like goths. So my reasoning is kottu + goth = goththu. Do you see now? How cool is that eh? No? I'm a foolish little boy making stupid word plays? Screw you.

Anyway, you lot HAVE been acting a little strange lately. I think it happens in waves. One prominent blogger starts it off and the rest of you follow up like lemmings jumping off a cliff. Sure, the moon at vesak was as fugly as ever, it's either raining catdogs or solar surface hot and kottu's full of bad poetry. The latter being the most valid reason to fall into such an emo-like state. But then again, turning emo means your output of bad poetry goes up by about 500%, creating a vicious cycle. Sort of like drinking to forget about your drinking problem. Or like... like... Something you do to stop doing that same something. I don't know. My brain's not working. But the point is, you're turning this place into a goth convention, complete with attendant trolls, skinny witches and nerdy punk rock fans. Everywhere I look it's wah wah the war! wah wah my family's starving! wah wah my leg got bit off by Gehan at the mall! Bah, sell your PC and buy some cereal. Or just stay away from the mall. Meh. You deserve what you get if you went to Kandy anyway.

Just shows even more clearly that you lot should be more like me. For example, last night I woke up with a start and realized something cold was rubbing against my leg. I look down and see a long black thing lying there, tip rubbing on my thigh. I certainly didn't shriek and jump off the bed. No, definitely not. I er... bit it. Yeah, I bit it, only to discover it was merely a black leather belt. Man up, lankanosphere(enough people have given credit to RD now to stop doing that now)!

Oh and I went to church today and skipped out during communion. Nothing funny there. But CB insisted so I put it in here. Go TP her house for dirtying my blog with such trash.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

On Titles

The more perceptive among you might have noticed that I rarely have a particularly interesting title. For posts. Take the last one for example. I had no idea what to call it so I just put in a generic name. Most of my posts are just about what happens everyday. For example, today I traveled in a bus going so slow and bumpy at times it felt like I was riding a lawnmower to work. Then I'd write a post about bus drivers and women on buses and how I slept on my arm and woke up with it hanging by my side, completely numb today. See, I can get a post out with decent speed, I just have no idea what to call it.

I think this naming affliction is going to come back and shock rifle me in the head some day. I'll probably write a children's book and call it 'Daddy drinks a lot because you cry' or 'The boy who got beaten up, had a revelation and did his homework better. Also Pancakes.'. Hopefully my powers of inventing-a-name-for-something won't be called on too often.

I hereby shorten the name of this blog to ASOB,NQIM. I know it sounds a bit strange but as a friend of mine pointed out, it sounds like one of the names you heard when watching 'The Gods Must Be Crazy' back when you were a kid. Or more or less anything said by the little black guy in it. I've heard he's found his dream job in a coke factory and lives happily ever after. Coca-Cola.

Until next time,
Yours untruly,

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Rant + Twilight


I keep seeing guys in pink T-shirts. What's wrong with you? Pink is just not a colour a regular guy can wear. Unless he's on a catwalk. You do not, in fact, exude confidence or show any lack of insecurity in your sexuality. If you are secure in your sexuality then you wouldn't have to wear a statement enforcing that point. Face it, even though everyone says 'it's just a colour', it's still a less than desirable colour for say... A sport scar. Unless you're a woman. There. Would you drive a pink BMW, males? No? Oh But I thought you were all for the 'confident and yet sensitive' look. Bull. All that new age hogwash can go the way of political correctness and the abominable snowperson.

I watched Twilight. Well, about 40 minutes of it because I was getting late for work and my fingers were sticky from licking the chocolate off them. Anyway, the first thing that struck me was how pasty they all look. Even the mandatory black guy was white, even the girl from Arizona. Vampires, fine, but the others? I had to turn off auto-levels on Media Player Classic to make the thing watchable and not look like some weird arty pic. Then we come to the 'main couple'. These two, when together look like the freakin Gilmore Girls. Actually, they're a bit more tan methinks. Mr. bushy-eyebrows is the most emo one can get without wearing black. And considering he's a vampire, I'll bet he does that too. Maybe he bites his wrists every so often to blank out the pain. And god, could Bella 'My face is botox'ed stiff' Gilmore be more typically female*? She falls for the dude, for god knows what reason. Maybe she wants to roam around in the underbrush of his eyebrows. She then gets told that everything about him is made to attract, down to smell even, but no, she 'trusts' him. All this over the fact that he's a vampire! Does she not know what they do? Did that book she brought not tell her that they suck blood and not raise kittens to take lolcat photos of?


Yeah yeah, any movie has it's oddities. The pale-faces were just too weird for me.


Monday, May 4, 2009

Sorry About...

...that stinker of a last post. I was waiting for someone and someone turned up, so I had to leave in a hurry. I _did_ in fact get that reload, and I _am_ really apologizing.


Heh. Couldn't resist.

Ahem. Anyway, I am finally at peace with my hair. After letting it grow wild for a few months, I chopped most of it off, but with a few adjustments so that now, I don't really have to do anything to it to make it... Presentable. The allure of hair that only needs flattening after a shower is just too much to stay away from.

Also, I seem to keep imagining that random people on the street or on buses are bloggers. I'm not sure why I do this, but it just happens. Probably has something to do with the fact that I only realized most bloggers were normal people at the last Open Mics. Till then I was under the impression that most were members of some elite book club, hanging around various upmarket hangouts with a latte in hand, quoting some obscure poet. I mean, I see blogs with Picasso or Andy Warhol pieces in the footers. I thought Andy Warhol was a comedian or something. And as for all those weird poetry excerpts, what the hell? If I manage to just barely scrape a meaning out of it without introducing my head to my desk, I consider myself lucky. Turns out they're all regular dudes and dudettes(?) after all.

Merry Monday everyone, have a great week!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Shopping List

Shopping list for today:
  • 1x money changer
  • 1x Nokia BL5C battery
  • 1x Reload
So, first off, money changer. Bussed to fort, uneventful. Not even a sudden brake making some mean old woman hurtle to the front of the bus. My luck was out. Get off and start walking towards the usual guy. Exchange rate's gone down, and I'm not too adept at bargaining. Get money, start walking to Pettah to get battery for sister.

Walking through the crowd listening to, or TRYING to, Sigur Ros plays so damn quiet in Ti Ki that you can barely hear them even with in-ear earphones without turning up the volume. So I just skipped to Spaceman. Eventually found battery, stared at many people and walked back. Of course, I did manage to bring my water percentage in my body down to 55% from the excessive sweating. Do not head out at noon people. You WILL die. I was picking my way through the dead bodies on my way back to fort. The only life was around the little drink shop things.

Buuuuutttt I'd write more but I have to go now, to be continued.
See ya'll later.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Vacation Pics

I was looking through the pictures I'd taken and realized that there wasn't much that wasn't either a personal picture or wedding stuff. Nothing with too much tourist-ey appeal. So no pictures for you. Only the sweet treacle of my words will have to do. Yes I know, it's hard, but the pain will fade soon. It's okay. *pat *pat

Anyway, Sabby's "bloggy"'s been taken off. In between all the cries of protest and the thousands of bouquets being dropped at her doorstep, I'm sure she'll eventually come to realize that she _should_ have dedicated a post to me back when she still had it. Oh and also that lots of people liked the blog. It'll be weird not having you around to call me a kid and throw a wet blanket on everything I say. Hope you achieve what you want from it's removal.

In ozzer news, I've stopped using the "-------" dividers so that _some people_ stay away from them because I use em. I mean, come on. It's like a sandwitch half eaten by Obama. It's a celebrity divider now. I will be posting it on eBay as soon as I figure out how.

Yet again I forgot to transfer that pic of me eating lays off my phone before coming to work. Oh well, content for the next post.

ALSO, should I add one of those chatbox thingys?

P.S. - Sabby, knew you wouldn't mind so I took the liberty of putting your past posts up for sale. Took em off Reader :D Everyone, posts with >10 comments start at 10$ a pop, the others are 7$. Start the bidding in the comments :P

Monday, April 27, 2009

The State Of The Union

So I take a long look at the state of things when I get back. Obviously I know that I was missed, and that all the posts dedicated to me were just deleted before I got back because the authors were embarrassed. Yes, that has to be it.

Lots of mindless crap being thrown about too. Shall we just stick it all in the garbage and move on now, please? We have bigger things to worry about now, like the towering pillar of society that we seem to have elected as chief minister, or the seemingly last bits of the war being played out up north. Never mind that Mr. Darkside wants to kill himself, whacko is going all political and sabby seems to be raging at something or the other all the time. Get over it people. Actually, whacko's all normal... I just stuck him in there because I haven't read much and wanted more names to throw in.

Anyway, will probably do the whole 'vacation pictures' thing again, later.

Good to be back, Hello all!

Hello Sphere!

Back from vacation and wondering how to get back into the flow of things. Too many posts to get round to them all. Well anyway, too lazy to write anything of substance at the moment. So I'm back. Now er...


Friday, April 10, 2009


Jerry|Away(Be back in two weeks)

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Do not be alarmed, you have been lied to.


The twitter HTML widget sucks.

In other news, people making false threats over the internet abound. Actually, not abound, just... what's the singular form for that? Ab? Well whatever it is, you know what I'm talking about. Calm down people. What info was put up on the Deece was already public and tales of "tracking her IP" are just fake. Anyway, it's all false. Google, Alexa and Microsoft do NOT in fact run a private eye service for 13 year olds. Just wanted to set the record straight, because it's really annoying when one of these stories gets around and I get told to put unpronounceable characters in my password because otherwise insecure little men will break into my PC and fill it up with bestiality porn. Blogger doesn't allow even the author of the blog to see much info on commenters. And google doesn't hand out logs to anyone willy nilly. So yeah, don't get all panicked, your info isn't accessible unless you put it up.


I'm off to a wedding! In India! What? I already told you? Bahhh, you suck. Mom's already there so I've been steadily losing weight the last two weeks. Should do this every time I head there, just so I can make room in my waistband for all the sweets and stuff waiting patiently in their containers, to be devoured by me. If anyone wants anything from there, tell me. And I'll pretend I forgot about it when I get back. Oh yeah, Lays chips are impossible to bring unless you stick em in a can or something, so I'll just take pictures of me eating a few packs and post them here.


is feeling the pain in his neck.


I can't help it. I'm tweeting everything now.


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Leaving On A Jet Plane

I will be missing for two weeks. Leaving for India on saturday. Thursday and Friday are free so I won't be posting.

And er...

Yeah, that's it.

Hell, I think twitter has castrated my word-spewing capability. I can't seem to get a post out.


Oh well, later maybe.

Monday, April 6, 2009

I Hate This Date

HisP tagged me for some post. Days I dislike or something like that. You're totally crampin mah stahl dhood. I don't dislike ANY day. Any day, that is, which I don't have to write a post describing days I hate on. So I guess I hate today. You bastard. You made me, the happy-go-lucky, take everything life gives ya, glass is _always_ completely full and filled with cola type of dude and made me hate, despise and actually make me want to murder the day's family! Where's Tuesday through Sunday?! Where's my chainsaw???

GRAAGH! You will die for your insolence, Utopian! You shall drown in a vat of _warm_ beer. I shall make sure of it. And it shall be non-alcoholic beer too. A warm vat of non-alcoholic beer with strawberries in it. Damn you and your whiny attitude! So a day's a little off. Deal with it, Britney. Watch your back next 6th of April. I'm watching you.
*Does two fingers pointing to own eyes, then at Utopian move.


ROFL. Took your suggestion for the stamp thingy. Put it on the left though, cos I'm still not sure how this template scales. Will prolly have to change it a bit and add a new right aligned div and stuff...

Doing it for the $$$

I was talking to a fellow blogger yesterday, and it told me that bloggers on kottu looked down on people using Google Adsense. WTF?

So the entire contents of my blog are ignored and I am labeled a leech? Fine, so maybe my post on how to spray paint a skunk isn't as high brow as your post on the intricacies of dung beetle social life, but come on. I added the things because I thought it'd be an easy way of getting some pocket money before I started working. It was. But now, it's being neglected and none of you ungrateful cows click on em much. I mean, who WOULDN'T be interested in industrial saws or project management software?

Anyway, I'd like to know why the bad mojo associated with the adverts, because, ya know, I thought for a second there, during a drunken stupor, that this blog was actually MINE.


I had a twitter account. I didn't do anything with it.
Now I get followed. So I'm obligated to update SOMETHING.
It seems interesting...
So yeah,

MyP : Will do the tag later...

Oh yeah, changed the layout a bit...

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Keeping Up Appearances

Since of late, ya'll have been giving me no end of nagging about 'going soft', with one particularly deranged female(Yes, redundancy, I know) going so far as to say I'll soon be posting POETRY, and corny poetry at that. Well, I'll have you know it's all a lie. Yes people, there is no 'laiiiideeee' to you. I was kidding, now back to work, kids.

Besides, why would it make me soft? If anything, the little softness in me would be expended on the object of my smittenitty, making me more of a big meanie. My boss told me some time ago that I have an 'aura' about me. Apparently I radiated a sense of 'oh I can't be bothered with you people'. I still have it. I see it pulsing about around me, glowing in the dark. I even just purchased a 'Moon stone +23 ego'. You lot must still 'ph33r' me.

So yeah, as far as you're concerned, it was all a big joke I was playing on whacko. So stop asking me about it and go suck on a lollipop.

P.S.- Dee: I know. Nobody can resist talking to meh.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Simple Sins

Shout out to mah man Seredib Ahl! Yo yo.


Oh, okay.

On to the list.

  1. Me
  2. The voice in my head
  3. Voice. Not voices. I'm no schitzo freak, you mentally unstable parasites upon society.
  4. Oh yeah, three was supposed to be Rainbows. Or something like that. Lollipops, Sunshine etc.
  5. Dammit. Four is.... The internet. And five is Music.
  6. Walking about aimlessly.
  7. But only for a while.
  8. Lieing in bed on a cold day.
  9. Pointing out other people's typos.
  10. Laughing at non-techy people making mistakes.
  11. Necrophilia.
  12. Using words I don't know the meaning of.
  13. Talking.
  14. Silence.
  15. Disturbed.
  16. Alter Bridge.
  17. Britne- Wait. This isn't the 'Fav artistes' tag is it? Oh... Er.... The countryside. Yeah.
  18. But then... Is 'The Internet' a simple pleasure? I'll assume so.
  19. Brokeback Mou- It's not the movies tag either is it? O-Kay...
  21. Making corny jokes/looking stupid.
  22. Eating ice cubes.
  23. The wind.
  24. Peppermint, wind and THEN eating ice cubes! Frostbitten tongue, my friend.
  25. You.
  26. Blogging!

Okay so maybe not all are so simple. Stop being a complexity nazi.

Again, I have nobody to tag since I always get these things last, being at the bottom rung and all. Yeah, you only see the dusty, decaying link to 'A Sort of Beautifu...' on the most shadiest of blogs. The kind of blogs that you wouldn't want to run into in a dark alley.

Till next time, Cheerio!

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Happy

I have made a groundbreaking discovery. Well not literally breaking the ground, but it'll at least shake the ground a bit from all the people stomping their feet on it out of indignation. Indignation at what, you ask? I shall tell you, right after these announcements -

I have chucked the hutch. Picked up an Airtel to replace it as my trusty secondary SIM. So yeah, everyone who took me down a notch from 'Awesome' to 'Bloody Brilliant' can just raise me back up in their opinion of me. Thank you.

My shoulder hurts for some reason. Like I've been driving it into a concrete pillar repeatedly. Before you ask, no I haven't been practicing my tackling with my brother. Nothing as exciting as that I'm afraid, just been sleeping on it too rough, I guess. Yeah, I sleep hard. I sleep a real man's sleep, with four pillows. Thought I'd rough it today and lost one. Guess I was just being too reckless.

Yes, back to the groundbreaking discovery. But er... I... Well it seems to have slipped my mind. Will remember soon, so till then,

The only reason two random people meet, start dating etc. is because of phone companies. Not because they allow the two to stay in touch, but because the phone companies themselves engineer the relationship. I suspect that these 'Call center workers' are really just office drones who go through secret profiles of many thousands of people a day, finding matches. I mean, how many of us has used one of these 'call centers'? Once they find two that match reasonably well, they make arrangements. Arrangements for the two to meet. Somehow. Either through mutual friends who are actually undercover agents, online or through some other fluke, they meet. Then the companies proceed to bombard the two with targeted advertising. You see, getting those two to switch to their network is like bagging a small business's business. My talk time, till recently, after many months of usage, was a mere 25-odd hours on the current phone. Then in just under two months, it jumps to nearly 150 hours, and I'm suddenly giving consideration to battery endurance on phones. But see, you have to get _just_ the right match, or you don't talk much at all, as evidenced by my earlier raggedy-man time of just over a day's worth. That would explain the many thousands of texts stacked up.

Oh yes, the discovery.

Yeah uh...

There is no discovery and you're all [insert insult of choice] for reading this far.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Fake It, We're All Face

It keeps occurring to me that all this is just a face. A mask I put on in order to stick out in the crowd. I know, we all do it, but still. It just seems weird that I do all this just to be unique. I mean, the weird spurts in the middle of conversations, the stupid comparisons and the corny gags are all just fluff. People call me random, yet I shrug it off, saying I'm perfectly normal, because I think to be merely 'random' is... uncool. Ugh. So I vehemently deny being anything but a normal person, saying normal things. See, I think that sets me apart from all the other people claiming to be all 'insanely random ramblers'. Yes I know my blog title has insane in it too. I just don't want to be bunched with the people who lick railway tracks just because it 'called out to them'.

I'm spontaneous dammit, not stupid.
But even I go for looking cool.

But what I'm getting at is, more or less the whole of me is just one face of who I really am. It's like this paper mask. It has been formed by everything I've read, heard, played and seen. It's a collage of everything that came into contact with me. And strictly controlled by what _I_ think is, again, 'cool'. Which is sometimes confusing because my definition of cool changes pretty quick. Like Sabby once said, it's hard to tell the difference between me and a fake :P

Not that I'm going for a goth-ish image or anything, just something different. As are all of us. Don't deny it, don't try to fight ittt just deal with it, it's just part of [something]... Setting aside lyrics of an entire _song_ detailing how they don't care, you all change how you are perceived by others all the time. Everyone wants to make a good impression. Even if it's by pretending to not care about making a good impression. The word hypocrite can't be used as an insult anymore because we all are anyway. It's like calling a person human! But you know what? I like it this way. You all do it! You cannot possibly refuse that fact that you change for others, and any self-righteous 'I-don't-give-a-damn-about-the-world' cows can shove it. I moderate comments with an iron fist! Ha!

You know the really weird thing? I think writing this post about being fake sets me apart and makes me less fake.

Even weirder is that writing that line gives me the impression that I'm that much cooler for it.

And so on and on it goes...

*making a new label; "wise-ass"

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Listen Here

All you buggers and buggerettes getting your panties in a bunch over not being in the last post, calm the hell down. They're just random clicks I got through your very blogrolls.

In other news, it's odd how much this whole 'Jerry' thing helps deal with stuff. Ya know, the whole 'I wouldn't care if a walrus was gnawing at my nipples' attitude. Whatever gets flung at me, I just refer it to him and it's done for.

Have you noticed how the rest of the blogosphere is developing slightly schizophrenic tendencies? Yeah, creepy. You'll never see ME doing that...

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Oh well, Might as well bide my time...

So I'm waiting in a cafe for someone and thought I'd make a post to alleviate the boredom. Visit a random blog, and start clicking from there. Listed below are my findings.

  • Whacko's labels list has Good and Evil in equal measure(2). Also a misspelled conundrum, egg, and a relieving sign of his heterosexuality in the form of (1) post on Men, and (12) on Women. I also get a kick out of seeing I'm the only blogger listed on it. That is, unless Anarkali or Ranjan Ramanayake have blogs. But that is quickly offset by his vastly greater number of followers.
  • Go over to the darkside. See yet another video of some hands playing a piano. Shudder at the horde of female fans.
  • F**CK F**CK F**CK F**CK F**CK F**CK
  • No, that wasn't at the Piano post. Something completely unrelated that just happened.
  • Hmmm....
  • Bah....
  • Anyone want cookies?
  • Still on the darkside, a map thingy showing readers all over the globe coming to see the maestro at work. Or play. Whichever it is.
  • *envy*
  • Go to DeeCee's blog. Some Buddha thing. Meh... I doubt people would go on a rampage even if there WAS a Jesus Bar. What with the whole water > wine thing, it might even be quite popular :P
  • Apple, change the world? pfft. Steve Jobs is a celebrity. Why must you idolise him for that?
  • Eyeliner and I? What be this...
  • GAH!! Poetry! Frantically click back.
  • What else be there.... Delilah Says Deliberations. Never thought people called Delilah actually existed. Just assumed it was a name made up for movies and things. I mean, it's like... I dunno. Fiction-ey.
  • Another post which I find a bit difficult to make head or tail of, so I refrain from comenting here. Er... Anyway,
  • Click on Jack's Point of View. Spanish music. Ooooh, Volare. Heard the Russel Watson version of it. Can't listen to anything due to lack of any sound from this PC. Oh well, moving on we see...
  • Sabby's blog is still missing.
  • Life in Taprobane. Woah, nice images. But... That last picture. How is the fish standing on it's side like that? Is is stuck by the fin to the rigifoam box?
  • SI has a map too, but it's coloured all brown, possibly reflecting his current view out the window of endless desert.
Wait. Why am I still writing this post? I'm off to get something to eat.
Cheerio, see ya'll at the next post.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Last Thursday, and thoughts.

Went to see the open mic thing thursday. Now I have this overwhelming urge to write something epic, just to go read it in front of the audience. Problem is, I have nothing epic to say. As I sit here, gnawing at a rubbery jam-paang for breakfast, and wondering if the jam bit of it has done a runner down to my lap, my mind races looking for suitable subjects to write a groundbreaking piece on that just confirms what everyone knows already anyway. I imagine writing of how the singhalese call me a tamil and how the tamils call me a singhalese, but that would be mostly fictitious. Sri Lankans to whom I belong, are generally a tolerant lot, at least in my experience. Personally I've only come across a few black sheep who shamelessly throw racism around. Should I shamelessly rip off meese(heese? yous?) and elaborate on how people form into their own 'gangs' at open mic, and rarely ever mingle around. Nah, too obvious. But then, stating the obvious gets you brownie points too, if you make it rhyme.

But I guess I just live a life that's too... uninteresting, to have much of interest to say. I'm the dude who rides the footboard at times, but has a walkman blaring in his ears blocking out all noise. That guy who walks through Pettah with a Terry Pratchett in hand, reading the book instead of staring out at the world when on a bus. Hell, even _I_ can't remember half the posts I put up here. Hence, I have taken the decision to rename this to 'A very philosophical mind with overtones on war, sex, food and glow-in-the-dark-condoms, not necessarily in that order". Hopefully that will stri my mind into deep thought mode. Then I will quote scripture at you till one of you goes "OMG dood you shud totalleh read this out at the next opahn mike!!". I await your response.

All in all it was pretty interesting. Walk in with a bunch and I'm immediately struck by the resemblance to a hippie siesta session or something. Only things missing were the dudes idly strumming the guitars. Oh wait. I walked in expecting it to be some kind of "Hi, I'm Jerry and I'm a blogger *chorus of 'Hi Jerrrrryyyy....'*" thing, but it was not to be so. We just walked all the way to the back where the rest of the bloggers I knew were gathered round. I slowly put away my laminated ID card with Name and blog title on it. What?

With regards to the actual listening bit, I must confess to having paid scant attention to those who went up to the mic to deliver their words of wisdom, or stupidity, depending on which side you're on. The funny bits immediately attracted my attention due to everyone suddenly looking in that general direction. The rest of it, I only caught snatches of. Unless it was someone I knew in which case I automatically paid attention, further enforcing the 'group' thing. I guess it's just that people listen to what they're interested in. If your text sucks, too bad, go read it to someone who cares maybe. Fact is, if the content read out is interesting enough, people pay attention.

Fortunately or unfortunately, again depending on which side you're on, I only managed to plaster faces on three people. In between automatically going "hiya" at a pointy haired dude who was hustling the croud at the back(Who just stared blankly for a second and looked away), having a particularly anal-about-acronyms rhymer pointed out to me(Yes ladies, this poet is one sexy beast) and bumping into someone who looks nothing like their caricature(Whoever drew that thing at the top of your blog must have been blained. No offense, 'allartisworthless'), I managed to tag biggie Mr. Ca himself, St.ROFL and MiddleChild.

Oh, Finally found out what the arrack thing was. Only a bottle of paint thinner and a few cockroaches short of kasippu ;)


Shifted office to a different place. Now we're smack across the road from a cluster of international schools. It's a little annoying when the parents of some muslim girls school stare at you as if you slapped them on the asses or something. I didn't realize the pavement was off limits to penis holders.


Mom's off to India again to help prepare for a wedding. Since the rest of us are mere helpless children at organizing weddings, we'll be setting off a couple of weeks later. Till then it's back to scavenging what food there is in the kitchen. This is also the reason for the jam-paang breakfast.


Life's good. Really good. Never realized people more awesome than me existed. Apparently there IS someone. I am torn between staring aghast at my wounded, limping pride and worshiping at the altar of awesomeness that is... SOMEONE. In the end I resign myself to just constantly being happy, jubilant even. Stuff that happens in movies really does happen sometimes, it seems. Doesn't seem like such a bad deal when you look at it. Not a bad deal at all. And I just realized how weird it is writing this up here. Even this, stripped down, barebones acknowledgment of smitten-ness.

And no, it's not Gehan.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Happy Blogging RD!

Three years and still going strong like... many three year olds, and far more entertaining than most three year olds I know. LLD has been the one blog that kept me reading through from the first time I started blogging.

Praise for RD and LLD,
"Fantastic! More fun than monkeys in a barrel!" - William Shakespeare
"Ela kiri! Game hamooma kiyawanawa" - Martin Wickramasinghe
"kwl i reeds it all teh time lol olol!!!111oneoneeleven" - jeffk

As you can see, his readership consists of people from all walks of life, who for some reason seem interested in the life of this middle aged drummer who seems to permanently be on top of the hill, and is seemingly refusing to go over it.

Here's to many more posts from our favourite old man from eeeeenglaanndd, RD!

Happy Anniversary sir!

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Male Supremacy & Desecrated Roti

Ya know what? We've gotten to the state that men are afraid of women. Some women should be feared anyway, such as the likes of that gigantic neighbor of mine, Thatcher, Sabby and Gehan. But what does it say about our society when I actually feel the urge to look away when a woman enters a bus, for example. This urge has been borne of many years of being stared daggers at by various women who fell under my gaze while I was just idly looking at the different people around me. I occasionally look in the face of strangers I pass on the street, sometimes smiling, sometimes sizing them up. But if it's a female, forget it. Too many were the times I get stared at as if I jumped on her back and started yelling 'I'm ridin' mah biatch!!'. Unsettling, to say the least.

When I was still a naive young lad, I used to smile at people who were in my path and came close to colliding with me as I zigzagged along the pavement. Youth would have helped me in getting many of them returned, even by the rosy cheeked akka's who would sometimes pat my head. I try smiling at a akka, who is by now a nangi regardless of relative age in that strange sri lankan way, who's in my path and she just glares. Do all women assume that all men are closet rapists? The 128 teeth baring smile of my youth is gone now, thanks to you erstwhile members of the Ultrasecret Ultrafeminist Ultranazi Ultramovement.


I should really just make multiple posts with these things instead of dividing up posts, but they just seem too short.


I was out looking for food. I'd gotten bored of going through everything Perera & Sons had on offer and wasn't looking forward to be fleeced at BARS. I wanted _rice_ that day. Off I went in the sweltering heat. Switched over to the Galle road hoping to find a thosa kade-hotel like thing with something good. I pass by a few smaller shops and then remember a few (female) bloggers getting all excited about the massacre of good food in the form of chocolate forced against it's will into a roti... thing. So obviously I had to go see if it was really as good (bad) as they said. So I walk the few extra meters and end up in Hotel (De?) Hijra. By this time I'm all sweaty and stuff. So I order a chicken fried rice to go and have a Smack. The fruit drink. Not the hit. I take it, go back to office and eat it. Pretty good, large-ish and plenty of... stuff... to eat it (how many more of these bracketed texts can I get in?) with. So I can say with all certainty, the chocolate roti thing sucks. It is a vile desecration at the altar of the chocolate god. I'm all for eating everything with chocolate, but this is just going too far. See you in hell, pagans.

The heat's getting to me too.

Just missed a lunch meet thingy promising much fun (and merriment. one more, it seems) because I had to rush back to work. Which is puzzling because I'm supposed to be looking for NEW work, not hanging around the current work. :/


Tuesday, March 10, 2009

You've Changed. And other things.

I'm not sure I know you any more. You used to keep me happy for hours on end, never failing to meet my every need. But now you've changed. Ever so slightly. I notice these things. You don't keep going for as long as you used to. I notice these slight changes, and I don't think we can work them out without 'outside help'. Or just completely abandon this thing. Yes, I have considered leaving you. Another looms in the horizon and I'm considering it. I think it started that day I got you all wet. You dried off and started being normal again but you're just not the same. You even froze up on me once. But, I guess I'll just have to go get you serviced. Abans should do...


The women's cricket world cup is going on. Why were we not alerted to the existence of this event? Were they trying to hide it from the world? Were they playing a newly discovered game of Stealth Cricket, wherein the players are disguised as pedestrians on the street and play off the streets of Melbourne, stealthily bowling through crowds, and batting ever so lightly using little ping pong paddles? Come on, show us. We won't laugh.
CB, now you know what a chauvinist _I_ am. ;)


Been playing F.E.A.R. 2 : Project Origin the last few days. It's a decent sequel to the first but takes a while to get used to after the more... free... shooters like Crysis and Far Cry. It still retains the old rushing through corridors lined with indestructible piles of paper feel. Seriously. I couldn't even break apart an LCD monitor. Maybe I was playing on settings not high enough for advanced physics effects :/ But you do get used to it after a while and it's still fun. Scary too. But I had the bright idea of keeping the grenade key on "G" and the flashlight on "F". Much confusion ensues each time I try to switch on my flashlight to look at a dark corner. OR when I try yo sneak a grenade into the middle of a patrol and instead light them up with the high beam.


Why don't we have a men's day? Women have women's day, women's rights and all the other associated paraphernalia that you're allowed to gather if oppressed. What the hell? And I wish all you cows spewing propaganda on women's day cramps in all eight of your stomachs.


Oh yeah, as per the first para, I think my phone's losing battery life. It's dead by the end of a day of slightly more than average use. :(

Monday, March 9, 2009


There's a women's cricket world cup going on.



Sunday, March 8, 2009

The Thinkin' Man Rants About The Things That Bother Him, And Are A Pain, or TTMRATTTBH,AAAP.

The Thinkin' Man Rants About The Things That Bother Him, And Are A Pain, or TTMRATTTBH,AAAP.

Ya'll know that ahm no lilly livered yuppie type o person. I play Counter Strike, the Thinkin' Man's shooter, and not that darned Mario Kart made for kiddies. Ah shoot any dogs peein in my garden, or would, if I had a gun, and I read em books lyin around. So it's a royal pain when people can't be decent and act a lil neighborly towards others. Actually, screw others, why not just towards ME?

What the hell is wrong with Hutch? I recently got one as a secondary and it's been acting weird ever since. From balances of -7 rupees to infinite time taken to activate services, they're acting all our-customer-service-motto-is-"WE HATE YOU AND WISH YOU'D DIE!!!", and a lot more hyphenated things which I am yet to think of. The 12 thing's cool, though. :D

Next up is that fool bank with a heart. If that bank's got a heart then it's some cholesterol filled, crippled old thing cast out of cold adamantium. It's probably my fault too for not checking on it, but what the hell. I got a visa debit card thingy from them last year. Took me many months to finally go get my bank book updated. When I finally see it, I wonder why I kept taking out 200 bucks so often. Then I find it's the charge for using the card with another bank's ATM, which is most of the time since Seylan doesn't have that many branches around. Never mind that all the other banks grub a mere 50 for the same. And then there's the 500 bucks I have to pay each time I use it's credit card like functionality. That is, I buy something for a thousand bucks and I get charged 50% more. And I though _I_ was a bit retarded. I can't even use this thing online. What the hell is wrong with you, bank? At least TELL me you're going to lay waste to my account before I let you have all my pocket money? Why must you take the path of the invading barbarian hordes and just storm in, ravage my account, hear the lamentations of it's money and then run away after raping whats left over? I should have guarded it better and updated my book more regularly, but STILL. Bank with a heart my ass... They wouldn't know a heart if it leaped out of the earth sprouting heart symbols around it, dripping blood, wearing a "I BE A HEART" sash and yelling propaganda about heart attacks, while slapping them with arteries. Cows.

I'm a bit confused as to what tone this post was supposed to take... I started off with wanting to use this neato "Thinkin' Man" bit that kept popping into my head but then I sort of lost it and went all over the place with the hillbilly and the yuppies and all.

But you get the gist of it. Right?

Also no I'm not making up the charges on the bank thing. :/

Friday, March 6, 2009

Uncomfortable when you accidentally sit next to a drunk on the bus.

is when he elbows you each time you fall asleep

are what I should have used instead of blocking off his elbow with my arm.

An ending
is what this post executes horribly

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Moving Pictures

Bussing it to work today, I was looking out the window. Mostly because there was a large-ish woman staring at me if I looked the other way. So as I was staring unseeing at the buildings, people and 'HUNK' movie posters flashing past, I noticed something else. Something scary. Something that made my aesthetic sensibilities curl up and wither away. Election posters. All sorts of bright, even garish colours going by in a blur, plastered on every conceivable vertical surface that is visible to pedestrians, create an almost hypnotic effect. Don't leave your car parked on the street overnight during election time.

If only they'd make slight changes to each poster before sticking them up in sequence. Would be much more entertaining to watch a flip-book style animation of our potential candidates doing something entertaining than to see the same repeating tile of fake smiles and photoshopped faces. Maybe a poster-show of Mervyn wrecking a cam or two? Or a Fight Club enactment in Parliament, starring the JHU members. Perfect light entertainment for a boring bus ride.

***Now Playing***
F>E>A>R> @ f.e. F.E.RR
FEAR 2. - Looks good so far!
Miata is coming along slowly...

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

It's so hot I tpyo!

It's so freaking hot! I'm afraid to step out for fear of melting into the sidewalk and slowly seeping into a sewer somewhere. I wake up in the morning to a comfortable 26 odd degrees, get to work and promptly turn into a boiled carrot. Buses suck. Unless you're on the footboard or something. Even then, the only environmental controls are how you position yourself on it. But on the plus side, you get a patta upper body work out. The dude sitting in front of me sweats. I see each little treacle of sweat flow slowly down his neck and plunge into the cotton comfort of his shirt, all the while realizing that there are drops of sweat much like the one I'm staring at behind my own neck. I dab at it. I still reeked when I got off though. Stay away from me these days, I am not an accurate representation of myself.

Roosters are Nature's Snooze Alarms. Ever notice how they let out a cry at daybreak, and then keep dong it till you're awake? Even well into your morning the blasted bird will keep screeching it's throat away. At least with an alarm you can hit it and switch it off. You hit a rooster and... I dunno. Was at hanwelle recently and that place seemed to have chickens like new Zealand has sheep. Except unlike New Zealand there weren't so many stories of people getting randy with the poultry.

Going away to the mountains for a few days improves your writing skills about a millionfold. I come back, jot down a tired post and I get "Nice writing" thrown at me. Now I'm just an everyday c- wait.....*slowly places ego aside for a moment. 'don't worry baby you'll be back in no time'*... I'm just an ordinary chap with internet access and a working knowledge of the language. I wouldn't know good writing if it bit me in the face. Now, to be accused of dishing out the same is bewildering, to say the least. I will assume it was meant as a light compliment only said for lack of anything else to say about the post ...*replaces ego 'come here honey, you're okay..'*...

I do

(WIP)It's fun. I also do

(Fictional WIP)It's fun too.

I dunno. This is an advertisement. Of me. Dread having to remake portfolio. But then again making it should be fun too, if I didn't have to rush like this. Maybe something new. Need work. Money. Grass is greener and tastes better on another company's lawn. Thank god I made xml files for play lists. I recommend to all you Flash and ActionScript junkies - TweenLite and Five3D. Probably the best combo of libraries I've come across in my (admittedly limited) experience with flash. Just realized, renders. Time... I need a super duper PC...

Phones grow on you. I never thought I'd grow attached to a phone, but I have. It's been through many hazards such as being lobbed over my shoulder and drowning in a wet pocket, and come out with only a few scratches. Although, thanks to those infernal Sony engineers I now cannot claim warranty on it because a little white spot on the back has turned red now that it got wet. Cows. Those genius cows.

Uncomfortable is when your boss's wife is looking for Russian music and you have the bright idea of suggesting she search ISOHunt. Go over to PC, commandeer mouse from her, navigate, enter keywords.
Be assailed by results for Russian videos of a questionable nature.
Rapidly close tab, grin sheepishly and scurry off.

Finally, Mustard is a colour like my ass is the next brown president of the USA. It is much akin to calling a spade a cow. Mustard. Hmph.

...Or is it something like Orange? Is mustard a fruit? It's that yellow powder stuff right? And in some cases paste. Or something. OR, is it some tropical fish? Bleh... Just call it light brown or something will ya? Easier for all concerned.

Oh, and Gehan, here you go-
"How do you keep coming down to colombo to make posts? Or do you just use message relaying monkeys to carry a written page down to colombo, to be typed and postd? hyuk hyuk hyuk"

The post tag post... or something

Apologies to mixedblessings, this post slipped my mind for a bit...

1. My main sources of 'nourishment' over the past 13 years has been chocolate sauce and soya meat. Not at the same time, mind you, but those two usually accompanied every meal of mine. Though it has eased up a bit recently. No, I am not skinny nor am I overweight. I just have a very strange metabolism :P

2. I used to refer to myself in the third person for a few years when I was around four or five. I watched myself on an old home video, and it was freaky when I kept referring to "Jerry". Of course Jerry has grown out of it now, but it's still a little creepy.

3. I once leaped from the top of the Central Bank building while playing the cello.

4. I lie a lot.

5. I am quite truthful most of the time.

6. I'm not sure what a cello sounds like.

7. My middle name starts with a C and ends with an R. And has "hristophe" in between.

8. I don't eat parippu(dhal). Unless it's the only thing there, for example with paratas at some thosa kade. My mum keeps nagging me about eating some horribly unhygienic version of her own food.

9. I am permanently on an ego trip.

10. Starting recently, I know too much about beauty care products.

11. Again starting recently, I tap my fingers along to whatever is playing on my walkman. Usually while in the bus. So much that my fingertips feel a wee bit strange.

12. I usually can't tell the difference between coke and pepsi. I also usually don't realize if there's too little salt in a dish.

13. I'm also not very good at talking about stuff like this. So I shall end it here. Go read the next post.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Untitled 3 - Buses & Hair

You know what? Monday, I wasn't too late, I was too early. I got to fort around 10pm yesterday, and got off at the station. Didn't have a bag full of wet clothes to carry around so I wasn't too weary of walking. Not finding my bus at the station, I head off to pettah. Iron Man starts playing. I felt like Rambo or something, stalking through the pavement stalls in the darkness. But it seemed alright, since there were many more people around. I just managed to get a seat on a bus which was rapidly filling up. Saw a bunch of open shops along the way too. So it was just that fate decided to drop me just beyond the "living" radius from Colombo.

Anyway, what I got here to say was, why in the world do we have hair? Why couldn't we have just gotten fur? Ever since I got back from camp It's been acting all weird. One minute it'll be all Bob Marley-esque curls and the next it'll be plastered down like a cat on the highway in front of two rapidly approaching headlights being followed by 18 wheels. People usually go on these things to find themselves. My hair seems to have lost itself. So I yell "Don't screw with me hair!!11one" and it goes still for a second. Then it just makes me look like Charlie Chaplin and yells back "You don't scare mee!". Stupid hair. I am powerless against it. It haunts me in my sleep. Seriously, it'll get all straight and try to poke me in the eye. Way to kill the mood when you're dreaming of - ..nevermind. I tried poisoning it by throwing kerosene on it, like, you know, kerosene irritates things like snakes and well hair is long and you know, the Medusa had snakess for hair and like, so, hair == snakes. But it just got in my eyes and I got o spend the day at the hospital. Why doesn't anyone get the snake analogy? It's like this. Imagine the hair is a fish that lives only in salty water, and that it breeds once in three weeks. Now think of the snakes as polar bears, who hibernate for long periods. Now, polar bears are white. You get what I'm saying? Yeah, that one always works.

So anyway,

I swear, if it weren't already dead I'd send it all to the gallows. But since the best way to torture the dead(As we all learn from TV) is to make them wander the earth rattling chains. They get really cranky and go all "mokada do???" at you. So I decided to nick some of the jewellery lying around the house and draped it over my head. Now I am a Pharoah. King Tut En Jerrymahn.

I think I need a Panadol or two... Headdd

****Now Playing****
Finally got back to gaming. Stopped halfway in Dead Space.
Modelling a Miata instead. You will see the fruits of my labours soon :D

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Temporary Absense


This is a first...

Well anyway, I won't be posting too often for the next few weeks atleast, and probably won't be commenting on many posts. I will read them, but it'll be on a tiny phone screen so I'll be too enraged at your post by the time I get to the end of it to have anything useful to say. I'll even take a while to reply to comments, since opera mini throws a fit each time I try to comment on my own blog.

There being no internet at work anymore is the root cause of this. So yeah, feel free to stone my boss if you see him on the streets. Also, on quite a related note, I'm looking for a job. Again.

So, I'll see ya'll around! Although I may not comment, rest assured that your posts are being read, and systematically judged by the High Court of Me.

PS- Will still be online though, so no worries on that end ;)

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Where I've Been

I inspect my face in the mirror. It looks a bit sharper, more rough. The kind of face you get after a few days of wandering around in jungles. Corporate or otherwise. Complete with sagging eyes and unkempt beard, I was a regular Robinson Crusoe. Or if I wasn't in such a wannabe-white-boy mood, a regular veddha. But that sounds less sexy. Even my head was spinning for god knows why.

How did I end up like this? Rewind a few hours.

I'm hoping there are buses to Colombo from Hanwella, where I just got off a bus from Kitulgala to pick up a few small but essential things I left at a friend's house. I'm all too aware that I'm a dude carrying an enormous bag in the middle of the night, with wires sticking out of my pocket. Needless to say, the other two people there edged away. As if they'd get any less blown up if I was indeed a suicidal pyromaniac. Finally, a bus arrives. I get on it and find all the seats taken. I glare at some kid staring at me. Eventually I get a seat and promptly fall asleep. wake up just before I'm supposed to get off in Pettah, and in my absent mindedness, nearly waved and yelled at everyone after I got off, since that was what I did the last time I was on a bus.Thankfully I stopped myself after turning around to face it, and before my hand was up.

A few sheepish minutes later
It's 9:20 by now and I'm too tired to lug my bag all the way to near the station. I doubt there would have been any buses there anyway. So I set off into the deserted private bus stand looking for a long distance bus going my way. Find one and sit. My legs praise my wise decision and my brain rewards me with a feeling much like having my legs sponged down by doting nymphs. Imagination runs amok when you're sleepy. Bus finally pushes off after 20 minutes or so and I keep my eyes glued to the road since these buses travel pretty fast. After approximately three minutes, I fall asleep. Time and space pass.

Wake up. Look outside, recognize nothing. Realizing that the best measure of where I am is the time, I consult my phone. It tells me it's 10:30. Right. I should have been near my house at about 10:10. The bus stops to drop some dude so I jump off just as he starts accelerating again. First thing that pops out of the darkness as I try to slow my rapidly displacing person is one of those concrete mile post things. After rushing around it and finally stopping, I find myself standing in the middle of a puddle of water. I scan a lonely shop sign for any mention of location. It says Belummahara. Doesn't ring any bells. So I pull out my phone. Yakkala. Egad. I'm dead. At this point it strikes me that my approximate location nearly hit me in the face as I got off the bus. I go back to look at the milepost. It says 26km along the A1. Highly distressing considering there's one just like that where I live which says 14. I don't think it's any coincidence that I went exactly twice the distance I wanted to go. *shake fist at sky* So, armed with my approximate location and some money, but also crippled by a large red bag and some money, I cursed myself for not staying on the bus till the last stop so I could just get another back.

Now, Colombo may not be so bad at 10:40 in the night, but once you go out of it, Sri Lanka is a dead country, save for the occasional gang of thugs or the lone old man on a bicycle. You can imagine what it was like to be standing on the side of a deserted road with paddy fields on one side and a few derelict looking buildings on the other. Look in the direction of home. Emptiness. I look the other way, looks like vehicles in the distance. Start walking and stick my hand out at any three wheelers that pass. They all rush past. I start contemplating hiding my bag somewhere and sleeping at the step of some building. I also contemplate being mugged by some dude, since I'm practically a walking traffic cone what with the bag being a bright red. I think I was just too tired to panic. Eventually I get to a junction like place and see two three wheelers stopped by the side of the road. Hallelujah! Get in one and head back. Talk to the driver about stuff like terrorists, the bomb the day before and public transport being nonexistent at night. Get off, pay, and quickly walk the few meters to my gate. Open. Stick key into lock, turn, and be greeted by The Music Of The Night. My dad's reading something on the couch while playing music just loud enough to indoctrinate those trying to sleep. Not so loud that it disturbs, and not quiet enough to ignore. He goes "HMM" at me. I stumble into my room and start pulling out all sorts of half drenched things from my pockets. Wallet, pieces of paper and phone etc. Start feeling dizzy. 11:24.

I inspect my face in the mirror.

Things I learned in camp-
  • Never take things that don't like getting wet on hikes.
  • Turn down requests to be team leader if it involves motivating the team on hikes.
  • Wear appropriate shoes on hikes. Multi-terrain sneakers might make you feel like spiderman, but you'll regret it later when you wonder how to get all that mud off.
  • I'm still in pretty good shape physically!
  • The wood they give you to make rafts is not adamantium cored.
  • Rowing is hard.
  • Rowing backwards is harder.
  • There is no such thing as too much camouflage face paint.


Will get to reading all your blogs in a bit. Till then, just imagine I commented and leave a response. Actually, use this as my standard comment - "Yeah right. Go ears! lol. hit me baby one more time and lick a goat! woo".

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Lies 4.0 – The Beach

So I’m sitting there, wondering who the people around the table are. It’s dark and there’s only a flickering candle at the center of the table. You’d understand if I’m a little apprehensive. Their faces get lit up occasionally to reveal mouths, noses and most other facial implements. Well, at least they look normal.

I ask the dude sitting next to me ‘So uh… you’re?"’ ‘Ah I’m Myprerogative machan, and this is’…uhh.. shit. ‘[someone] and Margarita, whacky’s friends’. I nod and smile at each in turn. So, now that everyone’s staring at me I decide to say something suitable. Except it came out something like

‘Why are you all staring at meh?!’

Thankfully Whacko and Realskullzero got back to the table after their little misadventure. After they get settled, I get into my routine of taking friendly insults, horribly deforming them into far worse ones and then applying themselves on me. See, people’s accusations of you being gay stop being too effective when you yourself admit to not only being gay, but also ‘one who dishes out surprise-sex’, carrying along a bottle of chloroform all the time.

Except this time things didn’t exactly go to plan, and I just ended up being looked at funny. Hence all the “Lies” posts on my part. So I hastily resorted to using my ego to call myself a god, but that fell apart rather quickly when I appealed to yet another apparently higher power for help in… something or the other. It doesn’t do your godliness any favours when you shake your fist at the sky and shout “Why God, WHY??”.

After that it was a pretty jumbled up discussion involving riseoftheasdadgs and how cupid was born. I’m not really sure how the airtight swimwear thing got there but it had something to do with the getting-pregnant-in-the-pool myth. And I think rotfl was supposed to be wearing a pair or something. I dunno. It was hard enough keeping up with the gist of the conversation while painstakingly typing out text messages, and it was impossible to keep track of all the characters involved. Whack said there was some kind of matrix involved but there weren’t any pasty white dudes making out with Keanu Reeves around(But seriously. Trinity totally looks like a guy). I think he meant some kind of marketing thingy made up by a pasty white dude.

Eventually [someone] left and was soon replaced by UnsilentDawn, that poem slinging… dude. He was duly warned of my allegedly strange taste in partners by all present and was told not to worry, all of them combined could take me down. But by this point all I could think of was that ‘TheWhackster’ had been behaving very strange the whole evening. But being the gullible fellow I am I just ignored it and continued to try and make sense of everything happening.

After much going on about nothing in particular, we set off. That bit was fairly regular, so I shall leave it to your imagination. Suffice to say that MyP and whacko were alone in a car at the end of it.