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How Our Civilization Will Be Remembered

I was watching The History Channel the other day, and they were airing a show which was about the ancient cities of the world, that somehow lost their glory and got buried under modern ones. Man, as nosy as ever, can't resist a good opportunity to dig into the Earth, go back in Time, and find some remarkable information about his forefathers. The show went on to illustrate the city planning, the trade, wars fought and general life, followed by the inevitable downfall in the hands of a more powerful enemy. This isn't the only case, the concept of a jacuzzi was invented by the Romans, the Phoenicians discovered glass and put forth the concept of apartments, and Egyptians horrified us all with incest. This had me thinking, a few centuries down the line, what will be left of our civilization? After pondering over it, instead of studying, I made a list that might give us some answers.

1. Food



People of Those Days (PTD) indulged in meats, (unless they belonged to a certain class called vegetarians, vegans or dead), vegetables, and a variety of sweets. Given their fast paced life, they also favoured fast foods, a pitiful meal which consisted of stale potatoes fried in reused oil, a meat patty between 2 depressed slices of bread and supplemented it with liquefied carbon dioxide. Point to be noted, the products often had a long shelf life, made possible by added liberal amounts of chemicals. PTD, like many people before them, also had wine and beer. The longer you sniffed and swirled your wine glass was an indication of how big a snob you were. In certain restaurants, the larger the servings, the higher they were priced. Some nations relied heavily on imports form other countries. Many experts, (including your's truly of those days), compare it to the Marie Antoinette scenario. However, no official complaint regarding the lack of Beluga caviar has been registered from the 3rd World countries.

2. Clothing

Western Clothing

PTD of the Warmer regions (East) were often forced to wear covering clothes as per restrictions of religions or oppressive governments. However, the West, being less conservative, wore minimal 'namesake' clothing. In an attempt to cultivate maturity in female children, special dresses with motivational prints were made. One such popular catch-phrase was 'Sperm Dumpster'.

3. Shelter

PTD in Slumber

PTD were highly adaptable. While some lived on park benches or slept on discarded newspapers, the upper class preferred settlements in well-to-do neighbourhoods. Being social animals, PTD lived with friends, family, lovers or pets. The rash youth would (in a state of drunkenness) often bring home a girl, spend the night with her and have no recollection of his doings. The girl may or may not be paid the next day.

4. People

(L) First Life, (R) Same, Second Life minus one.

Like many others before them, PTD had their own class differentiation. Some were wealthy, some were poor. Some had a large circle of friends while the rest would never leave their homes for days at end, devoting their time to computer games or worshipping Star Wars. They also lived in a parallel universe called Second Life where members could be rich, famous, and good-looking, without necessarily being so in the First Life. Sports figures and high level escorts (also known as singers) were idolized and their doings were heavily chronicled. They were also known for their fetish for expensive clothes, some of which never managed to stay on. PTD were also environmentally conscious, the rich often jetting all the way from on end of the world to another and back to raise awareness. Those in the technology field were far better role-models, but this was neither proved nor practiced.

5. Entertainment

One of the Many Entertainment Machines

Entertainment professionals, also called movie stars or George Bush were sources of hilarity and objects of ridicule. They often cost more than it took to run an entire nation, and occupied more print space in various publications too. PTD also took a strange interest in watching videos of people making love. A more passive way of catering to the needs of the public was brought about in a magazine with the symbol of a Bunny. Others had special devices called X Boxes or PlayStations that gave you the 4 S-es :speed, strength, snipers, and sex-appeal for as long as you were playing the game.

6. Diseases

A Disease in Action

Alas! The preservatives in their foods did little to preserve their innards. Given their penchant for fried foods, many people were at the receiving end of jokes, brought about by obesity. Terms such as 'Fatty' were known to turn people into delinquents. Another bane to their existence were a vile species collectively called 'Hippies'. Such is their fatality in numbers that thousands of desperate citizens petitioned to sanction their presence as punishable by death, to no avail.

Happy Diwali.

Diwali is around the corner, in case you haven't read the ominous signs already. The signs being dhamaal offers on sweets, clothes, jewelery, loans, cars, high dining, and condoms. Newspapers start the tradition of profiling hip and happening spots around the city, complete with celebrities; the obscure and the ones who seem to take too much print space, the so-called socialites with an abundance of cleavage, models who don such skimpy outfits that it's a sheer conspiracy against the Laws of Physics by never falling off and random foreigners who are more interested in sampling the wine than anything else.

But Diwali is the season where we're out with the old, and in with the new, right? Cue interior designers and feng-sui experts who wax eloquent on the season's colours and where your toilet should face as you relieve yourself in the morning, lest misfortune should befall you in that fateful hour. From exorbitantly priced cushions as red as a whore's lipstick to beads as tacky as her fish-nets, the paper covers them all so well, you're actually looking forward to turn your house into a miniature model of Hell. Worried that you'll end up looking under-dressed or oh-so-yesterday in sensible clothes? Worry not, for fashion designers aren't lagging behind. Heed their advice on hair-does that are straight off the ramp (resembling cocoons) and latest fashions, ones you'd be pointed at and ridiculed for years to come if you really wore them anywhere.

If you're hard pressed for cash, gift coupons will save the day. These deviously innocent sheafs of paper might just be a substitute for money, until you realize that they aren't so widely accepted. The minute *Conditions Apply in all probability indicates that you'll have to fork out 300 bucks on travel to a distant mall so that you can avail of a 50 rupee discount on a purchase of goods worth 1500. Gift coupons are singularly the most useful things you can gift a person, and still make it look like you've given something at par with Vijjaya Mallya. It's also one of the few presents that give you the sadistic pleasure and/or relief which is erstwhile derived when you give away a kid born after a night fueled with drinks, drugs and no recall.

Here's a toast to one more festival ruined thanks to consumerism and unwanted hype. Next week, when all the lanterns will have been dumped, the sweets would have digested and passed on(out?) to a better place, and gifts been stowed away unopened for another occasion- we shall fish out our wallets, grab up offers and look forward to Christmas.

Happy Diwali. ;)

Who Says Drag Queens Aren't Celebrities?

I don't. After all, this one is famous :


Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the world's most famous and also the richest drag queen of all time, Donatella Versace. Yes, you got me right, THE Donatella Versace, of the Versace clothes, famous for creating horrors like the one worn by Liz Hurley :




Who is she kidding? Having your face filled with Botox so that it bears more resemblance to a melting candle stick than anything else is no one's idea of beauty. I understand the pressure of having to look young, but this one looks far from looking human. I sure as hell wouldn't want to make up one fine morning with this horror next to me. Here's a pic of daughter Allegra posing with him, I mean, her. Apparently, the Versaces are hard pressed to buy food with their billions of dollars.


Ironically, Versace clothes are donned by some of the industry's most beautiful and recognized faces. While Donatella's can be called a 'recognizable' one (albeit, for unflattering reasons), it can hardly be called a beautiful one.

In search of that elusive miracle shampoo

You've seen the ads everywhere; on highway hoardings, newspapers, trains, buses, artfully and deviously distributed along with feminists, I mean, Femina; and sneakily shoved into your house though the gap below the doors. Right from the uber public shop windows to the uber comforting privacy of our bathrooms; shampoos have infiltrated our lives at every level. Sinister.

The standard shampoo commercial is pretty much to the satisfaction of CAPTAIN OBVIOUS. Usually:

A scene with two girls, both wearing light pink or baby blue (or is it baby pink and light blue?) or the brand colours. One girl is sitting with her hair left loose like an angered Phoolan Devi, complaining about split-ends and knots to her friend who MUST have hair that resembles a well-polished shoe. The friend plays the good Samaritan, gives her a bottle of *insert product name* shampoo (Zooming into the brand label is a must!). Cut to an extremely animated and graphic scene where the virtues of the product are heralded and shown in their entire blooming glory. Another cut scene where a drop of the shampoo rolls down the Whining Bitch's hair, thus placing a smile on her face. End the scene with a highly believable bounce-and-lash routine. End the monstrous advert. with a shot of the two girls bobbing their heads joyfully with hair a shade if black that can be achieved only by a lot of post-production work.

Some variants (like Men's shampoo) will involve the Boy flirting with Girl, Girl rejecting him, Boy using shampoo, and the Girl smelling his hair deeply and smiling coyly. Cupid strikes. Yech.

I mean, why can't I get a decent shampoo that really delivers what it claims to? I don't expect my hair to have a life of it's own, like Shakira's hips, have a comb slide down my hair, struggling for a grip, or yank banisters off. Nor do I have the insatiable urge to be a modern day Rapunzel. But what I do expect is some improvement in my chemically tortured locks.

Before use - Messy, Oily.
After use - Messy, Wet.
After a while - Messy, Oily.

Point taken.

You name it, I've tried it. The gorgeously scented and perfumed (albeit highly useless and ineffective) L'Oreal to each of the coloured variants of Sunsilk. The cheap American ones at dollar stores that have lander, ambrosia, watermelon, mango, coconut, rose, lily, honey, salt, chili, and pepper extracts to the God-awful Chinese ones with dubious ingredients. Yet, never has my hair come remotely close to anything seen on TV.

From what I've seen, all the brands claim to magically transform my worried hair into a wave of rippling and oh-so-silky locks along with efficiently eliminating any dandruff or pesky lice. (Whether you have them in the first place is another story.)

I'm sure every woman uses one of the greatest cons of our time. Yet, to this day, I have never come across anyone who's hair would fit the bill. Blah. The last time I checked, Priety Zinta wasn't spared either (She promotes Head & Shoulders I think). Companies gloat over '91% improvement in 80% of the women, and easily tacking an almost invisible Conditions Apply note at the base of the bottle.When I'm done with this article, I'll probably dash into the nearest well-stocked chemist and ogle at the plethora of shampoos on display - for virtually any hair type imaginable - and blow away whatever little cash I have on them (praying fervently that I don't lose all my hair one fine day, imagine running my hand through it - and yanking out clumps. Heh) and the follow-ups - leave in conditioners and the like - and once again fall a sucker in the Holy Cause of finding the Marvel Shampoo.

Heroes vs Victims.

On April 16th, 2007; South Korean student Seung-Hui Cho shot 32 people from the Virginia Tech University, apart from injuring many more. This incident had all the necessary drama to make it to front-pages of all dailies, (which was not unnecessary), gorge all the airtime on news channels, radios, and invite professional opinions from hitherto unknown experts in dubious fields. All this was pretty much needed to raise awareness, and give also Hollywood starlets a break from their hectic life full of social affairs and cocaine snorting sprees.

Seung-Hui Cho was any novelist's ideal villain. A 'mentally unsound' teenager, with streaks of voyeurism in him, suspected autism and reclusive. He also made a video before his gun toting spree about his general hatred about the world in general. Impressive and deep words, along with a reference to Moses.

Message 1:



Message 2:



Message 3:




Videos similar to these can be found on MySpace.com, especially by wannabe emos, noticably involving shittier lighting, more pent-up teenage angst, and lots of black make-up.

But one thing I don't quite comprehend is why the media insists on labeling the people who dies in the shoot-out as heroes. There's a fine line between a hero and a victim, and it seems like the line's just been crossed.

vic·tim
n

1. One who is harmed or killed by another : a victim of a mugging.
2. A living creature slain and offered as a sacrifice during a religious rite.
3. One who is harmed by or made to suffer from an act, circumstance, agency, or condition : victims of war.
4. A person who suffers injury, loss, or death as a result of a voluntary undertaking : You are a victim of your own scheming.
5. A person who is tricked, swindled, or taken advantage of: the victim of a cruel hoax.

he·ro
n., pl. -roes.

1. In mythology and legend, a man, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits, and favored by the gods.
2. A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life : soldiers and nurses who were heroes in an unpopular war.
3. The principal male character in a novel, poem, or dramatic presentation.

I'm sorry, but what exactly did the students (rest in peace) do to display 'feats of courage'? They didn't sacrifice their lives to save those of others. No bravado was involved, they were purely victims of circumstances. Their lives were forcefully taken away from them, and doesn't call for some glorious heralding. Mourn for the dead, but you don't have to go about honoring them. A person who gets his wallet stolen hasn't given it away in charity. It is wrath inducing to see newspapers carry a full page article on "Dead Student Heroes" (Font enlarged to catch the reader's eye), along with testimonials from their friends, relatives and teachers about how warm hearted and kind they were. Bet if anything had to be said about Seung-Hui Cho in his favour, it would have to wait for a better time. Nobody will praise a presumed lunatic who takes pictures of himself with a knife to his throat.

Happy Holi? Not really.

I loathe Holi, and everything related to it. Right from the colours that people smear on your face to the random water balloons bursting unexpectedly at your feet.

I don't have any personal beef with that festival, it's just that the sight of people dancing around to drum beats, drinking and forcing me to dodge around cars stuck in a traffic jam just so that I can avoid garish colour staining my clothes. It's a common sight to see a group of men covered in pink, red and other shades of gay colours; dancing in the middle of the road, scattering more to the winds to it can get into your eyes and hurt. It's a well known fact that Indians suffer from an acute case of Herd mentality. Which basically means that in a group, we go close to postal. If being dragged into crowds, having your face painted a nice shade of red, blue, green, and pink; and then being doused with a bucket of water is your idea is fun, you're welcome to it.

This is a picture of a typical Holi reveler:



At first glance, you might think that she's just someone else who's enjoying getting sprayed with water and gulal. But I notice the squinting of the eyes to prevent her eyeballs from getting fried, the plethora of colours on her hair and face that she'd waste a week on trying to scrub it off and the plastic smile... not a pretty picture to me.

Another thing I hate about this festival is the marketing that companies do in a bid to sell off their goods. This is a common sight during Christmas, Diwali, Easter, Shankranth among others. Full-page, brightly coloured ads. in newspapers, complete with an immaculately dressed and made-up couple with a grinning kid endorse the product, possibly stating how their lives transformed after falling for another commercial gimmick. "Hey suckers, it's holy, and make it more colourful by buying our new car - now available in *colour name* for a limited time only." Or how about "Secure your future and enjoy this festival by being tricked into purchasing another pointless thing you don't need, want or require*. Some go to the extent of conning us into shelling out cash for posh homes, land, getaways et al.

Holi is boring to say the least. You can't go out any where, or you'll risk being water bombed, schools and colleges are closed, so it's being at home with the folk. Never watch TV, they usually air boring things about some child who died because of a flying water balloon, or lost a body part; a chef preparing something replusive and complicated, or some news channel damning the Holi industry for using substandard materials in their powders; while another one will bitch about the expensive pichkaris and how the common man can't bear the burden of it. Under the tag of 'Holi special', shows remotely connected to colour will be on the entire day boring me to death. Even newspapers don't spare us. Apart from the aforementioned ads., they go around holding those ;lucky draw' or scratch card contests, which only fat, ugly housewives seem to win. Supplements chock full of thrash, and interviews of 'stars' about how they will celebrate this Holi, how they did the last, and what they miss about their childhood ones is religiously published, with a picture of the stars face gracing it. To fill up a few more pages, columns describing the song-for-the-season, what hair-care and skin-care regimes they abide by, and what they'll eat to avoid some dreadful short-coming today, and a astrology/numerology quack prophesizing about the doom that may befall us today, if we commit the error of not tacking a few extra letters to our names are added. Nothing annoys me more than using religious festivals for sham marketing.


Oh, by the way, the chemicals used in the colours cause you to break out into a rash, or erupt boils on your skin. Here's a happy Holi to you. I recommend some good skin cream. Nizoral works (not the shampoo)

Greg Chappaled.

Greg Chappell was hit today by a few locals from Orrisa for reasons unknown to me. Frankly speaking, I couldn't care less. But right after the hullabaloo raised over "racist attacks" against Big Brother contestant Shilpa Shetty, I don't think Indians have a right to treat foreigners like dirt. Especially one who's doing his best to save us from embarrassment from the Cricketing world by improving them.

I Hate Harry Potter.

I really do. This guy has to be the gayest thing on earth. Not only is he some kind of demonic spawn of a woman with half a walnut for a brain, but he *Hold Breath* flies! On a broomstick, which would've served a better purpose of whacking him silly on the head. Coming to think of it, no wonder Lord Voldemort's so pissed off all the time. Just when you have a chance of blowing up what could be the worlds biggest pest into a thousand gory pieces, he gets away will a measly scar on his head and a really gloomy disposition on life. So we see him wave his wang through school (Spelling mistake intended!), try and miserably fail at taming weird creatures, swallow potions, and by some weird miracle, not choke and die in a puddle of his own urine.


And his sidekick Ron Weasley. Why does he have a constipated look on his face all the time? Is it all the slugs he puked out once? Hard to have a witty and intelligent look on your mug when you're housing slugs in your gut. And, to make matters worse, he has a twisted mouth.




One of the better pictures of Ron.





This man has a fan following, hell, it doesn't take much to get people to worship you, does it?


And then, there's Rowling's answer to King Kong; a mumbling, bungling half-giant by the name of Hagrid, whose wittiest and smartest line would be a gape. Expelled as a student, now a gamekeeper, and a 'teacher' (In the loosest sense), kids, don't cut school unless you want to become like him. Asshole.

I read the last two books, and what a drag. Hell, I ended up substituting wand for "wang" and similar words as I read along to amuse myself more.

Frankly speaking, I didn't mind the first four books. After those, the hype grew, Rowling had hear head inflated, rowlled in hard green cash, found a husband, won some awards, married again, and has probably saved enough to pay for the education of her grand-kids too.

The fifth and sixth book, we see Harry transform from a lonely, love-deprived, unlucky child, given to sneaking off at forbidden hours to a moody, lonely, love-deprived, unlucky child, much given to sneaking off at forbidden hours and bitting pretty much everyone's head off. They lack a plot, and are littered with poor attempts at humor and 'old book magic'. The only life-savers in that book are Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older (and much better) brothers. We see Ron lash out at Hermione, who's alright, at frequent intervals, get a girlfriend, and make the book longer than the Lord Of The Rings movie. The sixth book left me with a major headache, with vague plots, dry dialogues, and BORING detentions.

He's to blame for the scores of annoying names forummers come up with, Potter_fan, Hermione_Grl, Iluvdraco, harry_rulz, and more which I won't mention to prevent myself from smashing my keyboard with my head.

Baffled

Baffled. Exactly what yours truly was when it was discovered that the college had employed some people to dig their way across the college grounds. A swimming pool, perchance? Or maybe a lowly burial sight for the innocent students who die daily by the dozen due to apparent food poisoning, dog bites, suffocation, or mere plain boredom.

The amount they have dug is by no means limited or small. A good 6 feet deep, and 30 feet long. Probably under the impression that what we needed most was some kind of a waterway to ferry us 30 feet across the grounds. Hey, maybe if they continue digging 'to the center of the earth' past it's center, they might eventually make a transport system to the other side of the earh. just think about it, I go to college, jump down, and appear in, say, Germany, Spain, or even Brazil.

College Pictures

Here are two pictures of the 'land' right in front of my college.

Wasteland:




Dumpsters. There's more garbage out of it.




To know why I post pictures of thrash lying outside my college, click here.

A random one, this was on an electricity box, it caught my eye when I had gone for a walk with Shireen.



Goat! :D

Resolutions!!

I make resolutions every 3 years, and stick to them too :P







1. Stop kicking people when I get angry.

2. Learn German, and french. Improving my Hindi and Marathi would be a good idea too.

3. Start earning.

4. Start saving the money I earn.

5. Go to South Africa in 2008 with my saved earnings.

6. Stop sniggering at people inwardly when I talk to them. Nobody's perfect, except me. :P

7. Post more often on my blog. And posts that actually make sense.

8. Buy my dad a good watch, not a Rolex of course, but not a 'Made In China' Rolex either.

9. Refrain from drawing myself up when i walk past people shorter than me. :P

10. Love the German Football team more than ever. This should be easy. <3

11. Become less tom-boyish. Refer point 1.

12. Start liking food more, chocolate doesn't constitute a major portion of a person's diet. :P

13. Avoid correcting teachers at college when they make the most silly spelling and grammatical mistakes.

14. Go backpacking. All. Alone.

15. Learn dancing. The best I can do so far is a few puppet-like maneuvers.

Happy New Year, I Hope.

And another year has gone by, as fruitless and unexpected as ever. The year of the Cock, or Rooster, fades away into nothingness, leaving behind a few memories, some bitter, some sweet, and others plain hilarious and perplexing.


Events I don't need to mention:

The Zidane Head butt, Microsoft's Vistas 'news releases', anything related to Orkut, Kavya Vishwanathan's pinched book, India losing at Cricket; pretty much used to it by now, Some damn Hussein, Bush's goof ups...


Promises kept by pot-bellied politicians have been dutifully broken, slums remain, water's always at a shortage, and the rate at which the garbage piles up on the streets can put even Mt. Everest to shame.

Potholes ensure the nerve-jittering rides that they have been delivering for years. They'll leave you shaken, and stirred.

The antics of a Coke-sniffing off-spring of a certain BJP spokesperson ensured that papers had enough meat to scavenge for a month.

The Mumbai blasts: Newspapers heralded the 'undying spirit of Mumbai' which would 'rise from the ashes no matter what came', quite missing the point that falsely sowing the seed of thought would would assure them that they were probably immune to the forces of Nature, and terrorists.

Clothes: I hope that 2007 will bring some colour into our lives, instead of just draping it over models who inevitably drop it off for the whole world to see 'what lies beneath'. May clothes shop really stock clothes that anyone can wear. I hate it when I pick up a pretty shirt, and need to put it back just because it's tight around the arms or something. India isn't Bangkok. There's no reason why we need to size our clothes in accordance to a nation of pint sized people. Some of us aren't anorexic and twiggy, but that doesn't make us bloated. Fingers crossed that 2007 will be a year where I don't dress and look like a bemused chicken with my feathers all ruffled.

Music: No Himesh. No Himesh. No Himesh. I am sick of him. In today's Brunch, a booklet by HT, and they had asked people from entertainment fields to vote for their Singer, up coming model and the likes. Conspicuously, himesh didn't feautre on anyone's list. that must be a hint enough for him.

Colaba: We love that place. The Gothic VT, cafe Leopold and Mondegar, art galleries, the old, magnificent buildings, the comparatively better streets, and the number of curios you can get there, right from Mariner's Clocks to foreign dailies, coins to old books.

Movies: Originality counts. No more remakes due to lack of scripts that make sense, more Rang De Basanti and Munna Bhai.

Reservation: I am all for it. Let those poor OBCs get all the reservation they want. Reserve buses for them, reserve taxis for them. Separate roads for them to walk on, separate crannies to spin in, a different department for them to buy their vegetables from, another to get clothes from. Independent trains, specially marked flags they can wave around proclaiming that they're Reserved. Build toilets where they can crap to their heart's content without us nosing around, and apartments where they can make merry to their heart's content. Bring on Dalit schools run by dalit headmasters, taught by dalit teachers and attended by dalit students, and examined by the Dalit Community that surely exists somewhere. May this happy tribe pass and join dalit colleges where a similar process continues. Special notes with Dr.Baba Saheb Ambedkar's face are to be printed. For their use wonly.

Web: Hurrah for Web 2.0. Mainly because MySpace fails miserably at this. Cleaner interfaces, simpler layouts, and aesthetic columns. With companies upgrading their websites to measure up to the Web 2.0 specifications, interaction between customers and members has increased. Do away with garish themes as you would with 2006, and welcome visual appeal as with 2007.

Inglish.

Following is a passage we got for our English exams. May cause insanity.

>>>


As you know, a great many peoples in India cannot read or write. They are illiterate. This is not their fault. They have never had the chance to learn to read. But we know, too that our country cannot progress as it should do if the majority of the people are ignorant and uneducated. If we are to be the best kind of citizen we must be educated. We must atleast be able to read books and news papers. Now for those of us, who have had the chance to go to school and to be educated, have been given something of which many of our neighbours have been deprived. They therefore, need our help. In this matter, we are in a position to help them. If we are willing to do so. We should show our neighbourliness if we found our next door neighbour lying at the side of the road unable to move because he had broken his Leg. similarly, too, we
should show our neighbourliness when we find him unable to make progress because he cannot read.


<<<


And one of the question was:

What is neighbourliness?

Frankly speaking, I was baffled. Not only was it just plain stupid to put forth Grade 4 paragraphs for Engineering students. Pretty much like asking Michael Schumacher to drive a Maruti 800 or a Ford Pinto. But the sheer lameness of the question, the broken grammar and the childish construction of the sentences, makes me laugh. To make matters worse, the paper was filled with 'opposites', 'Synonyms', 'Fill In The Blanks With Prepositions', 'Homophones' (I aways misread it as Homophobes) and other such shit. The paper duration was for 3 hours, and I finished it in an hour and a half. I must say, getting up halfway through the paper, announcing that you're done, and strutting down the aisle, knocking a few desks in the process, and grandly leaving the class room, never to return for a week, gives me some kind of vindictive pleasure.


Came back from Pune. We had initially planned to spend at least two nights there, but the unexpected noise, pollution, crowd and vehicles had us packing our bags the second day itself. Also, it didn't help that the hotel we planned to stay in (read, the only hotel that had a spare room) was devoid of clean mattresses, blankets, and hot water. The only thing we enjoyed during the trip was the 120 kmpm drive on the express way.

Pet Peeves

A compilation of the things that tick me off on the internet.


1. Typing all the time in capitals. IT'S ANNOYING!

2. l337 sp3ek all the time. Bl3h.

3. Annoying people out to do "frandships".

4. Trolls.

5. Bad grammar. It bad. No good.

6. Porn web cam advertisers.

7. People who swear a lot.

8. Idiots who go "lolzzzz".

9. Bad spelling. Sake is not "sack". For God's sack, I mean sake, get it right!

10. No fullstops or apostrophes. I'll probably keel over if I have to read those tirades in one breath.

11. Saudi perverts.

12. Bots.