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
:P

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.

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.

*wave
*shove

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!
:D

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

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.

;D

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.

:P

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.

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.

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-

*Phonecall*

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

*Answer*

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*

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.