A LITTLE SUGAR FOR YOU DEAR NEIGHBOUR !!
3:00 am
Im trying to get some sleep. I’ve buried my face in the pillow and used another to cover my ears. but I can still hear it... ofcourse i can.. why wont i ? its dead of night. you can't miss a pin drop with this kind of silence !!.. there it is again... “If I had to.." ..... "live my life without you near me, The days would all be empty, and nights would seem so long”.
I mean what the ***k. doesn’t she wanna sleep or something. Its been like this for over 3 hours now. Hey ‘loving’ neighbour honestly if I had to live my life without you near me I’d be asleep by now. And if your so desperately in love try these things I just came up with. It’ll do me (if not your lover) a lot good.
At this particular time i am going to share with you new ways to go and kill yourself when you feel the need to. For which I think theres never gonna be a moment better then now. Not that i wish you to do so, but just incase.
let's get with the suicide stuff right away. If you ever find yourself on the way to some place, say a park! with your lover, and you just feel like showing him some love, here's what you do. Tell him you’ll die for him.. Wait until you’ll pull up to parkway. Once you’ve stopped open the door and run as fast as you can backwards towards the fastest coming SUV. Upon impact you will find yourself flying rather rapidly through the air for say about 40 to 50 feet until you and maybe some of your other parts come to an adbrupt halt on the parkway itself. As you fly throught the air try to glimpse back at your boyfriend to try and catch the look of horror upon his face, that would make it all worth while.
Or Let's say you just aren't feeling "it" anymore, what do you do? What do you do ?!?! Simple, go ahead an take yourself an overdose of medication. That should do the trick. But wait. . .it didn't. So now what? Why not find the nearest bed sheet, tie it around something sturdy like a bedpost or maybe a bedframe. Now tie the other end around your neck. Look for the window and jump out, thereby hanging yourself. Don't worry about someone finding you and saving you because daddy will not hear the thud of you hitting the siding with those love songs playing so loud.
So there yah have it. Mind you i am not endorsing suicide nor am i telling you to do so. Whoever said "Love your neighbour" surely didnt have a neighbour like mine.
August 29, 2006
August 27, 2006
Most people will give you directions if you just ask. It's funny how some people are so afraid to ask for directions in Dubai. I can spot these people a mile away. They look around, try to find a street sign to see if it makes any sense, and when that doesn't work, they start scoping out people who might be approachable. I am often a person who they go to, or at least consider going to. There are reasons. I am very non-threatening, I often dress like an old man, and I wear a t-shirt that says, "Are you lost, you dumbass? Ask me for directions, you big out-of-towner!"
Ok the t-shirt thing is a lie, but the rest is true. But people are very scared to trust anyone in Dubai, so they are very hesitant about asking for directions. There's an idea among many people that anyone who lives here is either in a rush or doesn't want to be bothered. The remainder could be a crazy thief/murderer/rapist, or just some relatively harmless psycho that talks to themselves and eats cigarette butts. I am usually in a rush, as is everyone in this city, but we are very often really not trying to get anywhere in a certain amount of time, it's just the speed at which things move around here. If you slow down or stop to look around, you get bumped into by sidewalk tailgaters, or you get a good stabbing in the kidneys.
They may do it abruptly and it'll seem rude. It won't be the same kind of service you'd get anywhere else. Don't expect any follow-up questions, like, "So how long are y'all in town for? What do you plan on doing while y'all are here? Have fun!" The response will most likely be a quick point of the finger and a hurried "One block that way." That's what I've found out. People are almost always one block away from where they want to be. When I see lost people I watch them until they make eye contact with me, and depending on my mood, I'll either give them my friendly "Come to me with your queries" look, or my slightly more psychotic "Ask me where you need to be... I dare you to fuckin ask me" glare.
Ok, I curse a little too much. I am aware of it. But I just can't ***king help it. I love to curse (or swear as some may say). The only time I won't curse is when children are within earshot. Any other times, all bets are off.
I blame my bad mouthing on Ashley. I went to school with Ashley and I've known him since kindergarten. We fell out of touch in middle school, as he became a smoker and I did not.
Anyway, one day in fourth grade, Ashley and I were walking when he said to me, "Glenn, I noticed that you don't curse." He then told me to say "shit." At first I was reluctant. I thought, Why should I start cursing now? I haven't up until this point and there have not been any negative effects from not doing it. Being that I was a pushover, I then quietly said "shit." We were walking very close to some windows to classrooms. God forbid a teacher hear me. But I said it and realized it wasn't so bad. Then Kevin said, "Now say 'fuck'." Whoa. That's the big one, I thought. Do I dare say it?
The first time I heard it (or at least heard it and recognized it was bad) was when Cliff came into my Sunday school class, and thumped his head on the table by mistake and said, "Aw fuck." One of the girls in my class gasped and said, "Cliff! That's a bad word!" He was obviously unaware of it and probably heard one of his parents use the word. The teacher wasn't in the classroom yet, so he got away with it.
Anyway, back to me and Ashley.
I think at first I told Ashley I wasn't going to say it (I was such a wuss!). But after some more peer pressure, I said it very quietly. He then told me to say it louder. So I said it a little bit louder. Then he said, "No, yell it. Just go, 'FUCK!'" He then yelled it a few more times consecutively like "FUCK FUCK FUCK!", when our English teacher peeked her head out of the window to take a look at what all the "fuck"ing was about. Then I think we ran.
So that day, I never did yell the word. But rest assured that set me on a path of cursing. The following year I was in my fifth grade class and some kid said something to me, and I said something back which was very clever like, "Fuck you." Rather than being upset, he said, "Glenn, you curse a lot now. You never used to." That made me feel pretty good. I never realized kids paid such close attention to the linguistic habits of others.
So I thank you, Ashley, where ever you might be, ya piece of shit.
Ok the t-shirt thing is a lie, but the rest is true. But people are very scared to trust anyone in Dubai, so they are very hesitant about asking for directions. There's an idea among many people that anyone who lives here is either in a rush or doesn't want to be bothered. The remainder could be a crazy thief/murderer/rapist, or just some relatively harmless psycho that talks to themselves and eats cigarette butts. I am usually in a rush, as is everyone in this city, but we are very often really not trying to get anywhere in a certain amount of time, it's just the speed at which things move around here. If you slow down or stop to look around, you get bumped into by sidewalk tailgaters, or you get a good stabbing in the kidneys.
They may do it abruptly and it'll seem rude. It won't be the same kind of service you'd get anywhere else. Don't expect any follow-up questions, like, "So how long are y'all in town for? What do you plan on doing while y'all are here? Have fun!" The response will most likely be a quick point of the finger and a hurried "One block that way." That's what I've found out. People are almost always one block away from where they want to be. When I see lost people I watch them until they make eye contact with me, and depending on my mood, I'll either give them my friendly "Come to me with your queries" look, or my slightly more psychotic "Ask me where you need to be... I dare you to fuckin ask me" glare.
Ok, I curse a little too much. I am aware of it. But I just can't ***king help it. I love to curse (or swear as some may say). The only time I won't curse is when children are within earshot. Any other times, all bets are off.
I blame my bad mouthing on Ashley. I went to school with Ashley and I've known him since kindergarten. We fell out of touch in middle school, as he became a smoker and I did not.
Anyway, one day in fourth grade, Ashley and I were walking when he said to me, "Glenn, I noticed that you don't curse." He then told me to say "shit." At first I was reluctant. I thought, Why should I start cursing now? I haven't up until this point and there have not been any negative effects from not doing it. Being that I was a pushover, I then quietly said "shit." We were walking very close to some windows to classrooms. God forbid a teacher hear me. But I said it and realized it wasn't so bad. Then Kevin said, "Now say 'fuck'." Whoa. That's the big one, I thought. Do I dare say it?
The first time I heard it (or at least heard it and recognized it was bad) was when Cliff came into my Sunday school class, and thumped his head on the table by mistake and said, "Aw fuck." One of the girls in my class gasped and said, "Cliff! That's a bad word!" He was obviously unaware of it and probably heard one of his parents use the word. The teacher wasn't in the classroom yet, so he got away with it.
Anyway, back to me and Ashley.
I think at first I told Ashley I wasn't going to say it (I was such a wuss!). But after some more peer pressure, I said it very quietly. He then told me to say it louder. So I said it a little bit louder. Then he said, "No, yell it. Just go, 'FUCK!'" He then yelled it a few more times consecutively like "FUCK FUCK FUCK!", when our English teacher peeked her head out of the window to take a look at what all the "fuck"ing was about. Then I think we ran.
So that day, I never did yell the word. But rest assured that set me on a path of cursing. The following year I was in my fifth grade class and some kid said something to me, and I said something back which was very clever like, "Fuck you." Rather than being upset, he said, "Glenn, you curse a lot now. You never used to." That made me feel pretty good. I never realized kids paid such close attention to the linguistic habits of others.
So I thank you, Ashley, where ever you might be, ya piece of shit.
August 26, 2006
On Thursday (it’s the weekend in this part of the world) I finally decided to call it a night after a marathon run with programming and scripts. I completely lost track of time and before I knew it, the time showed 2:00 am. I get real grumpy and irritated after a long run with programming language. And like always every thing that has even the slightest chance of getting me irritated finds its way to me at moments like these. So before anything could make me frown I decided to shower and just crash out.
I got this nice bright fluorescent yellow towel. but it’s not very good at "absorbing water" or "drying me off". That's sort of like having a car that's not good at "going" or a watch that's not good at "keeping time". If the upper part of my leg is damp and I start drying myself, the bottom half of my leg will soon be soaked. This towel just moves the water. Is it really that hard to make good towels? Stupid sweatshops.
So I go to bed hoping to catch some sleep, with scripts and parameters and coordinates still running in my mind. About 3:00am Im still dazed & confused and I wake up to a cop speaking on his... what is it, a bullhorn? Whatever it is in their car that makes their voices louder. Why can't I think of the word? Let's call it the voice loudener. So he's on the voice loudener saying, "Step away from the car. Put your hands where I can see them. Where I can see them!!!"
Luckily I don't have one of those little kid beds in the shape of a car, because I could have been mighty confused in my middle of the night REM mode. I don't know what happened with the cop and the guy. I hope it worked out for the both of them.
and then about 4:30am i wake up, and hear my neighbor (the one who plays those love songs) screaming in her balcony. it's 4;30 in the morn, why is she screaming? so i'm like, "oh no! someone is murdering my neighbor!" so I run out to my balcony and she goes, "i'm sorry... sorry." she was sorry for waking everyone up. there was a mouse that she freaked out about. the way she was yelling, you would think that this mouse was carrying a gun or something. You did a fine job Mr. Mouse. Next time just make sure she jumps.
After that I haven’t had a wink of sleep..!! and I’m still grumpy.
I got this nice bright fluorescent yellow towel. but it’s not very good at "absorbing water" or "drying me off". That's sort of like having a car that's not good at "going" or a watch that's not good at "keeping time". If the upper part of my leg is damp and I start drying myself, the bottom half of my leg will soon be soaked. This towel just moves the water. Is it really that hard to make good towels? Stupid sweatshops.
So I go to bed hoping to catch some sleep, with scripts and parameters and coordinates still running in my mind. About 3:00am Im still dazed & confused and I wake up to a cop speaking on his... what is it, a bullhorn? Whatever it is in their car that makes their voices louder. Why can't I think of the word? Let's call it the voice loudener. So he's on the voice loudener saying, "Step away from the car. Put your hands where I can see them. Where I can see them!!!"
Luckily I don't have one of those little kid beds in the shape of a car, because I could have been mighty confused in my middle of the night REM mode. I don't know what happened with the cop and the guy. I hope it worked out for the both of them.
and then about 4:30am i wake up, and hear my neighbor (the one who plays those love songs) screaming in her balcony. it's 4;30 in the morn, why is she screaming? so i'm like, "oh no! someone is murdering my neighbor!" so I run out to my balcony and she goes, "i'm sorry... sorry." she was sorry for waking everyone up. there was a mouse that she freaked out about. the way she was yelling, you would think that this mouse was carrying a gun or something. You did a fine job Mr. Mouse. Next time just make sure she jumps.
After that I haven’t had a wink of sleep..!! and I’m still grumpy.
August 23, 2006
I’ve been really very busy and didn’t realize I was busy that long. Im not done with my projects yet. Just took a well deserved break and thought id post something. Im still completely out of stuff to write.. like they say.. got nothing to talk about?? Theres always the weather.
EAVESDROPPING ON GOD
The other day in God’s office, mother nature stopped by and this is the conversation that ensued…
Mother Nature (knocking on God's door): Hey God? You got a sec?
God: Hey Big Momma! Come on in! What's going on?
MN: Well, um. I kind of screwed up.
God: Screwed up what? What's going on?
MN: Well, it's the UAE.
God: What happened?
MN: Well, about a month ago, I turned on the heat there. And I kind of forgot about it and it's been really very hot for a month.
God (Stroking his beard): Hmmm, OK. The entire UAE?
MN: Yes. Pretty much from abu dhabi to Dubai.
God: Dubai? Holy shit, I totally forgot about Dubai (laughs). Oh man, I was so high when I did that. Dubai. That was hilarious. It's actually a pretty funny story. I made abu dhabi, then I had this whole extra piece that I didn't know what to do with. Actually, never mind, it's not that funny. I guess you had to be there.
MN: Hmm, I guess so. So anyway, about the heat. I basically forgot all about it. What do you want me to do?
God: OK, tell you what we're going to do. We won't tell anyone about this. This is off the books. Just go right into winter. Hopefully, no one will notice. Just make it up to them in the Fall. Give them a nice September.
MN: Oh, thank you so much.
God: Mother Nature, I've noticed this has been happening a lot lately. I know you are getting on in years. Maybe it's time to hang 'em up.
MN: No, I promise I'll do better. I'm starting to write things down more. I also bought this thing from TV, where it's supposed to help me remember things.
God: OK, fair enough. And to tell you the truth, I've been screwing up a lot lately too. That whole Middle East thing is way out of hand. I'm at a loss. I didn't realize these assholes are blowing each other up left and right and doing it in my name, of all things.
MN: I guess we've all had a lot of stuff on our minds lately. OK, God, I'm going to go back to work.
God: OK. Hey, you brought that rain to Delhi like Conscientous_contender always asks, right?
MN: Shit! I'll go do that right now.
(Mother Nature leaves, then there's another knock at the door. It's Old Man Winter.)
Old Man Winter: Hey God. Can I talk to you?
God: Sure. What's up you old *****rd?
OMW: Not much. look, I'm going to cut right to the shit. Is Mother Nature going to retire or what? She's ***king up left and right.
God: Look, I know. But my hands are tied. She doesn't want to leave.
OMW: Dude, fire her.
God: you and I both know I can't do that. She's going to have to leave on her own. If I fire the only woman I've got working for me, how bad is that going to look? The liberals and chick groups will be on my ass so fast.
OMW: This is bullshit. You know I can do a much better job than her. She made it rain in December, she left the heat on for a month. A ***king month. There have been 40 degree days in July. You've gotta do something.
God: I'm sorry. She's not leaving. And come on, please don't call me names. I'm God.
OMW: I'm sorry. I'm just ***king sick of this. I've been doing this Winter shit for how long now? It feels like for ***king forever. Come on, I know I can do Spring.
God: I know you can too, and I'd like to give you a shot, but it's Mother Nature's gig.
OMW: This is bullshit, dude, and you know it. I'm so sick of blowing ice and snow on people. I need a change. Honestly, if the job market was better, I'd be so outta here.
God: Look, I don't want you to quit. And I don't think you want to quit. What are you complaining about? You've got one of the easiest jobs up here.
OMW: I don't know. I just need a change. If I don't get a promotion, I think I'll just quit. I kind of want to move to Ibiza. I just need a change of scenery.
God: I'd hate to see you go. I wish I could do something but, right now, I can't.
OMW: This is just a hard time right now in my life. I'm at a crossroads.
God: I know. Why don't you just sleep on it and talk to me tomorrow.
OMW: OK. We're still on for golf, right?
God: See you tomorrow. Peace out.
EAVESDROPPING ON GOD
The other day in God’s office, mother nature stopped by and this is the conversation that ensued…
Mother Nature (knocking on God's door): Hey God? You got a sec?
God: Hey Big Momma! Come on in! What's going on?
MN: Well, um. I kind of screwed up.
God: Screwed up what? What's going on?
MN: Well, it's the UAE.
God: What happened?
MN: Well, about a month ago, I turned on the heat there. And I kind of forgot about it and it's been really very hot for a month.
God (Stroking his beard): Hmmm, OK. The entire UAE?
MN: Yes. Pretty much from abu dhabi to Dubai.
God: Dubai? Holy shit, I totally forgot about Dubai (laughs). Oh man, I was so high when I did that. Dubai. That was hilarious. It's actually a pretty funny story. I made abu dhabi, then I had this whole extra piece that I didn't know what to do with. Actually, never mind, it's not that funny. I guess you had to be there.
MN: Hmm, I guess so. So anyway, about the heat. I basically forgot all about it. What do you want me to do?
God: OK, tell you what we're going to do. We won't tell anyone about this. This is off the books. Just go right into winter. Hopefully, no one will notice. Just make it up to them in the Fall. Give them a nice September.
MN: Oh, thank you so much.
God: Mother Nature, I've noticed this has been happening a lot lately. I know you are getting on in years. Maybe it's time to hang 'em up.
MN: No, I promise I'll do better. I'm starting to write things down more. I also bought this thing from TV, where it's supposed to help me remember things.
God: OK, fair enough. And to tell you the truth, I've been screwing up a lot lately too. That whole Middle East thing is way out of hand. I'm at a loss. I didn't realize these assholes are blowing each other up left and right and doing it in my name, of all things.
MN: I guess we've all had a lot of stuff on our minds lately. OK, God, I'm going to go back to work.
God: OK. Hey, you brought that rain to Delhi like Conscientous_contender always asks, right?
MN: Shit! I'll go do that right now.
(Mother Nature leaves, then there's another knock at the door. It's Old Man Winter.)
Old Man Winter: Hey God. Can I talk to you?
God: Sure. What's up you old *****rd?
OMW: Not much. look, I'm going to cut right to the shit. Is Mother Nature going to retire or what? She's ***king up left and right.
God: Look, I know. But my hands are tied. She doesn't want to leave.
OMW: Dude, fire her.
God: you and I both know I can't do that. She's going to have to leave on her own. If I fire the only woman I've got working for me, how bad is that going to look? The liberals and chick groups will be on my ass so fast.
OMW: This is bullshit. You know I can do a much better job than her. She made it rain in December, she left the heat on for a month. A ***king month. There have been 40 degree days in July. You've gotta do something.
God: I'm sorry. She's not leaving. And come on, please don't call me names. I'm God.
OMW: I'm sorry. I'm just ***king sick of this. I've been doing this Winter shit for how long now? It feels like for ***king forever. Come on, I know I can do Spring.
God: I know you can too, and I'd like to give you a shot, but it's Mother Nature's gig.
OMW: This is bullshit, dude, and you know it. I'm so sick of blowing ice and snow on people. I need a change. Honestly, if the job market was better, I'd be so outta here.
God: Look, I don't want you to quit. And I don't think you want to quit. What are you complaining about? You've got one of the easiest jobs up here.
OMW: I don't know. I just need a change. If I don't get a promotion, I think I'll just quit. I kind of want to move to Ibiza. I just need a change of scenery.
God: I'd hate to see you go. I wish I could do something but, right now, I can't.
OMW: This is just a hard time right now in my life. I'm at a crossroads.
God: I know. Why don't you just sleep on it and talk to me tomorrow.
OMW: OK. We're still on for golf, right?
God: See you tomorrow. Peace out.
August 17, 2006
MORNING BLUES....
I spent 15 minutes Ironing a shirt last night. This morning I woke up to see all the creases back at the exact same places I had pressed them off. Incase your wondering, No!! there wasn’t even the slightest trace of blood in my alcohol stream!! It’s a new new shirt, first wash. Maybe its just me. Its not the first time. Happens to a lotta my shirts n trousers alike.
So I Ironed it over again, 15 minutes of my lazy morning robbed by a stubborn shirt that wont stay crisp. finally there I was, a neatly pressed shirt ready to leave, I get into the elevator and one look in the elevator mirror and presto, same creases, same place! Damn this ‘Massimo Dutti’ I grumble.
Just then this very cute little Arab girl enters the lift, looks at me and with a bright face…
“Hey there, good morning”… Im standing there in the corner stunned with admiration for this little girl who’s probably not a day older then 8 yrs.
I couldn’t help replying with a.. oh you cute thing “Good Morning”.
“so where you off to early this morning” I ask her.
“to the park, I got my friends waiting downstairs,.. where you going to?”
“Me??? im off to work li’l girl, can I join you at the park, Id love to pl..”
“did you call me a Li’l girl??” she cut me mid sentence.
“I’m not Li’l, tsk tsk”
O Oh I thought...There I am looking down at this cute little thing who hardly even reaches knee high, giving me the most disgusted look anyone could ask for at 7:00 in the morning.
“I’m sorry” I mumbled. She didn’t look at my face. The whole thing seemed so amusing, and just to annoy her a little more I start singing.. “Baby, baby don’t cry !!”
It really seemed to work cos now she was furious.. the little baby girl !!
“Im telling my mommy about you” she grumbled. I couldn’t help smile cos she had the cutest angry look on her face. Her fair cheeks were now red with baby fury. It was the most amusing morning I had in a long long time. The moment the elevator door opened I let her walk before me. She ran to her friends turned once and gave me the “I hate you stoopid guy” look. All the while im smiling and that seemed to annoy her all the more.
As I drove by, I saw them laughing & playing in the park. It is moments like these when I realise that how life has gone by so quick, Its so so much nicer to be kids. You got your parents around you.. cooking for you, looking after you. sometimes I wonder why is it that I have to live so far away all by myself. Oh yeah career’s sake. But for those of you who are with their parents , dont let the moment go unrespected and unrelished. Maybe its only when we move apart that we realise the value of being together. Life is not about a few big moments , but a million small ones.
Mom called just as I was thinking about how at my suddenly advanced age I would never know when my heart would come to a sputtering stop. After I determined that my heart was (for the moment) still beating, I cheered at the thought that I hadn’t yet reached the point where I had more body parts on the night table beside the bed, (false teeth, hearing aid, eye glasses etc.) instead of attached to their appropriate places (however tentatively) on me. So far I was good to go. I looked at my cellphone and asked my Mom
“I’ve passed my prime mom, I’ve grown old”
“Nonsense - you never had any prime years to be past.”She replied
I feel so much older today. Somebody stop the world, life's flown by too fast.
I spent 15 minutes Ironing a shirt last night. This morning I woke up to see all the creases back at the exact same places I had pressed them off. Incase your wondering, No!! there wasn’t even the slightest trace of blood in my alcohol stream!! It’s a new new shirt, first wash. Maybe its just me. Its not the first time. Happens to a lotta my shirts n trousers alike.
So I Ironed it over again, 15 minutes of my lazy morning robbed by a stubborn shirt that wont stay crisp. finally there I was, a neatly pressed shirt ready to leave, I get into the elevator and one look in the elevator mirror and presto, same creases, same place! Damn this ‘Massimo Dutti’ I grumble.
Just then this very cute little Arab girl enters the lift, looks at me and with a bright face…
“Hey there, good morning”… Im standing there in the corner stunned with admiration for this little girl who’s probably not a day older then 8 yrs.
I couldn’t help replying with a.. oh you cute thing “Good Morning”.
“so where you off to early this morning” I ask her.
“to the park, I got my friends waiting downstairs,.. where you going to?”
“Me??? im off to work li’l girl, can I join you at the park, Id love to pl..”
“did you call me a Li’l girl??” she cut me mid sentence.
“I’m not Li’l, tsk tsk”
O Oh I thought...There I am looking down at this cute little thing who hardly even reaches knee high, giving me the most disgusted look anyone could ask for at 7:00 in the morning.
“I’m sorry” I mumbled. She didn’t look at my face. The whole thing seemed so amusing, and just to annoy her a little more I start singing.. “Baby, baby don’t cry !!”
It really seemed to work cos now she was furious.. the little baby girl !!
“Im telling my mommy about you” she grumbled. I couldn’t help smile cos she had the cutest angry look on her face. Her fair cheeks were now red with baby fury. It was the most amusing morning I had in a long long time. The moment the elevator door opened I let her walk before me. She ran to her friends turned once and gave me the “I hate you stoopid guy” look. All the while im smiling and that seemed to annoy her all the more.
As I drove by, I saw them laughing & playing in the park. It is moments like these when I realise that how life has gone by so quick, Its so so much nicer to be kids. You got your parents around you.. cooking for you, looking after you. sometimes I wonder why is it that I have to live so far away all by myself. Oh yeah career’s sake. But for those of you who are with their parents , dont let the moment go unrespected and unrelished. Maybe its only when we move apart that we realise the value of being together. Life is not about a few big moments , but a million small ones.
Mom called just as I was thinking about how at my suddenly advanced age I would never know when my heart would come to a sputtering stop. After I determined that my heart was (for the moment) still beating, I cheered at the thought that I hadn’t yet reached the point where I had more body parts on the night table beside the bed, (false teeth, hearing aid, eye glasses etc.) instead of attached to their appropriate places (however tentatively) on me. So far I was good to go. I looked at my cellphone and asked my Mom
“I’ve passed my prime mom, I’ve grown old”
“Nonsense - you never had any prime years to be past.”She replied
I feel so much older today. Somebody stop the world, life's flown by too fast.
August 15, 2006
THE FURRY ASSASINS
Back home in Goa, We happen to support two cats who do not belong to us but have found refuge in my home. I know this will color me peculiar in the eyes of many, but I am not a cat person. Not that there is anything wrong with cats, but the bottom line is that they’re animals just like cows & goats.
These two cats who conveniently freeload off us dispute this notion and consider it heresy on my part.
They act like drunken Vikings wreaking havoc on furniture, carpets, doors, car roofs, trash bin, not to mention lawns and gardens.
I think they were going a tad too far when they tried to murder me. Now I know some will consider what I have just written as paranoia on my part, but hear me out.
On my Holidays this time round the cats got working together and attempted to kill me using the stairs. While one acted as a lookout the other darted between my legs, as I was going down the stairs, causing me to crash down the steep steps.
Once I eventually reached my destination at the bottom, I checked myself for damaged body parts. It didn’t take me long to notice that my left foot was not how it had looked a little earlier. After some judicious consideration I deduced something was amiss. I then did what all guys do when faced with personal disaster, I shouted for my MOM.
As I was waiting for assistance I noticed the cats giving each other the “thumbs” up. The conspiracy was out in the open.
When my Mom came to the open doorway at the top of the stairs, she looked down at me with a sigh and a look of resignation. She was no doubt thinking of the burden that was descending upon her again.
As I crawled out the front door, on the way to the car, I looked back to see the two would be assassins looking as if they had swallowed the proverbial canaries.
With every vibration of the car causing pain in my ankle, we bounced, jiggled and thumped our way to the doctor's clinic and because my Mom's aim was particularly good we missed not one bump or dimple in the road. She was suspiciously pleased about this.
The next thing I knew I was lying on the observation table at the clinic, deliciously contemplating what I was going to do with the cats, once I was on my feet again, when the doctor appeared over my ankle. He informed me that my ankle had been sprained. This as you may imagine came only as a minor surprise to me. He went on to say, that I needed complete rest and a few pain killers would do. Obviously this man had too much testosterone pumping through him that day or else he was an agent of the cats.
Much to the obvious disgust of the cats, I was soon at home, This happened a couple of months ago and the cats are still with us. My Mom likes the cats and I haven’t had the nerve to ask her to choose between the cats or me. You could never say when you’d be voted out.
You don’t know someone who would like a cat or two, do you?
Back home in Goa, We happen to support two cats who do not belong to us but have found refuge in my home. I know this will color me peculiar in the eyes of many, but I am not a cat person. Not that there is anything wrong with cats, but the bottom line is that they’re animals just like cows & goats.
These two cats who conveniently freeload off us dispute this notion and consider it heresy on my part.
They act like drunken Vikings wreaking havoc on furniture, carpets, doors, car roofs, trash bin, not to mention lawns and gardens.
I think they were going a tad too far when they tried to murder me. Now I know some will consider what I have just written as paranoia on my part, but hear me out.
On my Holidays this time round the cats got working together and attempted to kill me using the stairs. While one acted as a lookout the other darted between my legs, as I was going down the stairs, causing me to crash down the steep steps.
Once I eventually reached my destination at the bottom, I checked myself for damaged body parts. It didn’t take me long to notice that my left foot was not how it had looked a little earlier. After some judicious consideration I deduced something was amiss. I then did what all guys do when faced with personal disaster, I shouted for my MOM.
As I was waiting for assistance I noticed the cats giving each other the “thumbs” up. The conspiracy was out in the open.
When my Mom came to the open doorway at the top of the stairs, she looked down at me with a sigh and a look of resignation. She was no doubt thinking of the burden that was descending upon her again.
As I crawled out the front door, on the way to the car, I looked back to see the two would be assassins looking as if they had swallowed the proverbial canaries.
With every vibration of the car causing pain in my ankle, we bounced, jiggled and thumped our way to the doctor's clinic and because my Mom's aim was particularly good we missed not one bump or dimple in the road. She was suspiciously pleased about this.
The next thing I knew I was lying on the observation table at the clinic, deliciously contemplating what I was going to do with the cats, once I was on my feet again, when the doctor appeared over my ankle. He informed me that my ankle had been sprained. This as you may imagine came only as a minor surprise to me. He went on to say, that I needed complete rest and a few pain killers would do. Obviously this man had too much testosterone pumping through him that day or else he was an agent of the cats.
Much to the obvious disgust of the cats, I was soon at home, This happened a couple of months ago and the cats are still with us. My Mom likes the cats and I haven’t had the nerve to ask her to choose between the cats or me. You could never say when you’d be voted out.
You don’t know someone who would like a cat or two, do you?
August 14, 2006
Why does no one want my special sauce surprise?
I'm thinking about becoming a professional chef.
I made this meal sometime back. I called it "Everything that was in my kitchen at the time plus it could have used some mushrooms". I just threw a bunch of things that I thought would go well together in a pan and cooked it. It was good. The secret ingredient was love.
The other day I thought I would try to duplicate this recipe. Since I didn't write down any ingredients or quantities, I was going to have to wing it again. I added some mushrooms, some green peppers and a few more things that I found in my kitchen. This time around, it was more like a recipe than a bunch of ingredients thrown together. It was zingy and spicy, yet creamy and mild. I thought it finally deserved a proper name.
I decided to call it "Glenn's creamy special sauce chicken pasta surprise". I brought it in my lunch today and told the guys about it. I offered them some. Everyone agreed that no one is going to want to eat a meal with the words "Glenn's", "Creamy" and "Special Sauce" in the title. Infact, it was also agreed that "gastrointestinal Casserole" is a more appealing name. My friends are nice!
No one would eat it. They didn't even find out what the surprise was.
I'm thinking about becoming a professional chef.
I made this meal sometime back. I called it "Everything that was in my kitchen at the time plus it could have used some mushrooms". I just threw a bunch of things that I thought would go well together in a pan and cooked it. It was good. The secret ingredient was love.
The other day I thought I would try to duplicate this recipe. Since I didn't write down any ingredients or quantities, I was going to have to wing it again. I added some mushrooms, some green peppers and a few more things that I found in my kitchen. This time around, it was more like a recipe than a bunch of ingredients thrown together. It was zingy and spicy, yet creamy and mild. I thought it finally deserved a proper name.
I decided to call it "Glenn's creamy special sauce chicken pasta surprise". I brought it in my lunch today and told the guys about it. I offered them some. Everyone agreed that no one is going to want to eat a meal with the words "Glenn's", "Creamy" and "Special Sauce" in the title. Infact, it was also agreed that "gastrointestinal Casserole" is a more appealing name. My friends are nice!
No one would eat it. They didn't even find out what the surprise was.
August 08, 2006
SOMEONE JUST SHOOT THE GUY !!
Just caught an interview with rapper 50 Cent, as he is known to his fans (his real name is Miles Scaife-Dingethorpe). A fascinating young man, though unfortunately almost too stupid to speak. He reminded me of some of the less proficient guys. "The music business is really the business of selling music," he argued, "so I do what I do."
Music? The oaf would'nt know the difference between a crotchet, a quaver, and a bash in the chops with a bassoon. I would like to dig up Ludwig van, or one of those boys, and introduce them. "This is how we do music now, Ludo. You spent a year studying with Haydn in Vienna; this guy spent two years in jail for armed robbery and dealing crack. Not only can he not read music, he cannot read at all; indeed, he can barely even speak. And yet he thrives."
I am not talking about all rappers. There are many I admire. Ice T, for example, was at the Salzburg Conservatory under Otto von Schnitzengruber, where he studied harmony, counterpoint, choral fugues and mixing..
For more rants on 50cent by me click here
Just caught an interview with rapper 50 Cent, as he is known to his fans (his real name is Miles Scaife-Dingethorpe). A fascinating young man, though unfortunately almost too stupid to speak. He reminded me of some of the less proficient guys. "The music business is really the business of selling music," he argued, "so I do what I do."
Music? The oaf would'nt know the difference between a crotchet, a quaver, and a bash in the chops with a bassoon. I would like to dig up Ludwig van, or one of those boys, and introduce them. "This is how we do music now, Ludo. You spent a year studying with Haydn in Vienna; this guy spent two years in jail for armed robbery and dealing crack. Not only can he not read music, he cannot read at all; indeed, he can barely even speak. And yet he thrives."
I am not talking about all rappers. There are many I admire. Ice T, for example, was at the Salzburg Conservatory under Otto von Schnitzengruber, where he studied harmony, counterpoint, choral fugues and mixing..
For more rants on 50cent by me click here
August 07, 2006
Dear Disgusting Bus Traveler,
Sleep is such a marvelous thing, isn’t it? Especially when you are stuck in travel. I can see you nodding so I’ll take it as a yes.
Oh, what’s that? You are nodding, yes, but nodding off to sleep. I get that because you are slithering your head all over my back like a bad rash. And if that isn’t bad enough, you also seem to be a dribbler.
What is a dribbler, you ask.
Well, a dribbler is almost like a cretin. He spews saliva a masticating cow and I wouldn’t put his IQ much beyond the cretin as well. For fuck’s sake, use a pacifier or suckle on your thumb. Not only would that help you in this dribbling business but you can then travel in the handicapped section, no questions asked.
The next time your head crawls over my shoulder, I’ll punch your in the *****. You can lose sleep over that. And please, wipe that silly grin off your face. We aren’t telling each other sordid tales of matrimony.
Ah, good! I can see you nodding. Hmm, you are beginning to resemble God’s remake of Pisa. Hey, wait, I’m not finished yet…
Sleep is such a marvelous thing, isn’t it? Especially when you are stuck in travel. I can see you nodding so I’ll take it as a yes.
Oh, what’s that? You are nodding, yes, but nodding off to sleep. I get that because you are slithering your head all over my back like a bad rash. And if that isn’t bad enough, you also seem to be a dribbler.
What is a dribbler, you ask.
Well, a dribbler is almost like a cretin. He spews saliva a masticating cow and I wouldn’t put his IQ much beyond the cretin as well. For fuck’s sake, use a pacifier or suckle on your thumb. Not only would that help you in this dribbling business but you can then travel in the handicapped section, no questions asked.
The next time your head crawls over my shoulder, I’ll punch your in the *****. You can lose sleep over that. And please, wipe that silly grin off your face. We aren’t telling each other sordid tales of matrimony.
Ah, good! I can see you nodding. Hmm, you are beginning to resemble God’s remake of Pisa. Hey, wait, I’m not finished yet…
August 05, 2006
PAPER CUTS
Why is it that a paper cut hurts worse than a knife cut?
Cold steel vs. flimsy paper
You would expect a real knife to be very painful.
Yet usually, a simple “Darn it, I’m bleeding!” will suffice.
When paper slices you, every bad word you’ve ever known gets blurted.
Even if you don’t see the blood, it hurts!
Is the absolute flatness of paper what makes it so painful?
I do believe it does, yes.
But there’s more to it.
What is paper made of?
Wood.
What did people use before they discovered steel?
Wood.
So essentially, a paper cut is a wood cut.
A paper cut is equivalent to a splinter.
Splinters hurt like hell!
The worst thing is, you can’t pull a paper splinter out.
It just hurts until you forget about it.
Remember the warnings, never run with scissors.
Change it to never run with paper.
Why is it that a paper cut hurts worse than a knife cut?
Cold steel vs. flimsy paper
You would expect a real knife to be very painful.
Yet usually, a simple “Darn it, I’m bleeding!” will suffice.
When paper slices you, every bad word you’ve ever known gets blurted.
Even if you don’t see the blood, it hurts!
Is the absolute flatness of paper what makes it so painful?
I do believe it does, yes.
But there’s more to it.
What is paper made of?
Wood.
What did people use before they discovered steel?
Wood.
So essentially, a paper cut is a wood cut.
A paper cut is equivalent to a splinter.
Splinters hurt like hell!
The worst thing is, you can’t pull a paper splinter out.
It just hurts until you forget about it.
Remember the warnings, never run with scissors.
Change it to never run with paper.
August 01, 2006
SNEEZING
My friend Jacque’s down with flu and cold. She’s been sitting a few feet from me and sneezing her life away. I couldn’t help but do some research on the kinda sneezes people sneeze.
The simple quiet sneeze, Achoo!
The louder sneeze, AAAAAAAAAAACCCCHHOOOO!
The continuous sneeze, Achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo, etc.
The apologetic sneeze, ACHOO! Sorry!
The personally excused sneeze, Achoo! Excuse me
The excused by others sneeze, Achoo! Your excused or Gesundheit!
The denial sneeze. You feel it coming. Your eyes water. Your sinuses constrict. You start to squint and open your mouth. And then what? Some jerk says "Bless you" before it even happens and You feel like you just swallowed a grenade.
There have been studies that say you lose about 300 brain cells per sneeze. 300 is quite a scary amount. Which brain cells ??? ones that store useful information, Or ones that store useless information? How do you know what you lost, you’re too busy sneezing. I’d prefer to designate which brain cells I lose from now on. My girlfriend always complained how i forgot the date of the day we first met and the time at which i proposed.. see that explains a lot of things. It all got lost in the sneeze !!
hehe and Jacques been sneezing all day. The poor thing must be real short of brain cells after now !!
God Bless ya Jacqueline.. !!
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MUST READ'S from my weblog archive "Why it's important to loose brain cells":
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My friend Jacque’s down with flu and cold. She’s been sitting a few feet from me and sneezing her life away. I couldn’t help but do some research on the kinda sneezes people sneeze.
The simple quiet sneeze, Achoo!
The louder sneeze, AAAAAAAAAAACCCCHHOOOO!
The continuous sneeze, Achoo, achoo, achoo, achoo, etc.
The apologetic sneeze, ACHOO! Sorry!
The personally excused sneeze, Achoo! Excuse me
The excused by others sneeze, Achoo! Your excused or Gesundheit!
The denial sneeze. You feel it coming. Your eyes water. Your sinuses constrict. You start to squint and open your mouth. And then what? Some jerk says "Bless you" before it even happens and You feel like you just swallowed a grenade.
There have been studies that say you lose about 300 brain cells per sneeze. 300 is quite a scary amount. Which brain cells ??? ones that store useful information, Or ones that store useless information? How do you know what you lost, you’re too busy sneezing. I’d prefer to designate which brain cells I lose from now on. My girlfriend always complained how i forgot the date of the day we first met and the time at which i proposed.. see that explains a lot of things. It all got lost in the sneeze !!
hehe and Jacques been sneezing all day. The poor thing must be real short of brain cells after now !!
God Bless ya Jacqueline.. !!
-----------------------------------------------------------
MUST READ'S from my weblog archive "Why it's important to loose brain cells":
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