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


...is 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.