Battle of the bulge

Battle of the slight case of bulge really. I have done the unthinkable…okay not unthinkable ‘coz I have thought about it alright…so the undoable. When the choice is between vegging out on a warm cozy couch and a sweaty painful workout it is not much of a choice. Couch always wins no contest. But lately with my low stress high fat diet I have packed on a few pounds and as a result have ended up with a slight case of bulge.

Day 1:

I went to the gym expecting to be mocked for my slight case of bulge. I prepared myself for the unforgiving stares from the Greek gods and goddesses in the gym. But instead, like they showed in a Friend’s episode, I was greeted by a cute Dan who gave me a tour of the gym. It was a pretty big gym with lots of machines with names such as butt buster. After the tour I decided to go for something simple like a run on the tread mill. After some feel good exercises, I left home feeling pretty darn good.

Day 2:

Somehow ended up in a kick boxing session…still haven’t figured out how I talked myself into it. So I was in one of those rooms with mirrors for walls. They are built such that you can view your problem areas in all possible angles. In addition I end up standing besides one of those perfectly athletic bodies (so that you can compare yours with theirs) on my right and a much older woman (to rub your nose in shame with their stamina) on my left.
The instructor yells, “Now do the boxer’s shuffle”.
I tried to do the shuffle with two left feet.
Me: Alright just don’t fall ‘coz nobody is going to miss it with the mirrors.
Instructor: Now punch and hook and kick.
I am making all the right moves but they turn out such that in comparison, a penguin’s waddle would look more graceful.
Instructor: Hook, punch, power-kick.
In Eric Cartman’s words, “you are breaking my balls here”.
But I will not quit! I will persevere to the end of this session…please let it be a 15 minutes session. Body refuses to co-operate 20 minutes into the session. I walked to the side while the rest of the class (including the much older participant) is just getting warmed up. WTF!
Alright this is embarrassing, I cannot be the quitter. I join in. Body now in full mutiny mode.
Brain: Alright! Let’s take it one kick at a time.
Legs: Not happening.
Brain: This is embarrassing.
Ten minutes later, Buck (my dearly beloved) caved in too. So now the two of us were in the time out corner. After two more failed attempts to join the group we decided to walk out. Buck somehow found the strength to do some more exercises while I hung around feeling as limp as a noodle. Fifteen minutes later I was on my way home thinking about the long battle ahead.

Day 3: Today. #@*!

Aria

Aria has exactly 7 days, 6 hours, 43 minutes and 8 seconds to live. During this time she plans to do a number of things which would allow her to pass peacefully…possibly with no regrets. She felt grateful that life gave her the rare chance to say her final goodbye. She was one of the lucky ones to be aware of her impending death. What a shame it is when one volunteers to the drudgery of life to save for a future that never was. What a shame it is to end up as a road kill or with a bullet in the head for some pocket change or worse with the same hand-over obituary as millions of others had before you. It was too late for Aria to hope for a better obituary. Aria cursed herself whilst she was confronted by this thought. Not because she did not earn a better obituary but because she wondered about what others thought of her even in death? Was living a life fulfilling societal obligations not enough? But even with all the pandering to social cues, she would stick out like a sore thumb. Always the misfit, never the path breaker. She cringed as she envisioned those words on her tombstone. She checked out the paperwork to get cremated.

The news of her impending death was a hard pill to swallow but she did not have the heart or time to wallow in self pity. It was time to shed her inhibitions, her boundaries and her protective cocoon. She was a butterfly vibrant with color, having not more than a moment to spare on the thousands of alluring moments and memories that had bloomed in the spring of her life. A misfit metaphoric madam butterfly, making her last round in the garden of life…why was her mind cluttered with stupid metaphors? Not entirely stupid though. A superficial psychological analysis would point out that she identified with the butterfly because much like her the butterfly had a week to live. Aria looked at the butterfly and thought it was a pity that the poor bastard didn’t know it had a week to live. Look at it, fluttering away, wasting its life cross pollinating the flowers and making cocoons for the future generation that it will never see. Aria didn’t realize that butterflies were so depressing until that moment.

In her metaphorical struggle, Aria decided that she was going to be a metaphorical bullet from then on. The one who cuts to the chase to get one poignant point across. But even this metaphorical bullet was struggling to find the point of life. If life was a bullet, Aria had dodged it all her life.

She was too restless to watch the red ball of nuclear explosions climb up in the sky. But yet this brilliant time keeper had managed to create a spectacle she could not resist. Aria wondered how easily she dismissed the sunrises and sunsets as the most mundane of things. But they were the most mundane of things. For every missed sunrise there would be one more to come until the day she died.

Aria bit into the hottest pepper she could find in the market. Her eyes filled with tears even though she felt like a dry well inside. But the fiery jolt on her tongue gave her the gratification she sought. She yearned for the sadistic pleasure of being alive.

The Landlord video

Will Ferrell does it again. Pearl rocks!

View it

here

or

here

Have a fantastic weekend :)

Chintu Pintu

Hi,
My name is Chintu Pintu and I am a 2 months old puppy dog. The sidebar --> is my new home. Don't worry I won't bite you when you drop by Crys's website, unless ofcourse you put mean comments. You must think I am a genius of a puppy because I can already type a post. What do you expect? I am a cyber dog. I love to eat and play. So when you drop by don't forget to give me a treat or play with me or pet me.

-Chintu Pintu

Feasting eyeballs, hidden readers

I was recently thinking about giving my blog a make over. The green paint has started peeling off the virtual walls. But after Patrix told me that he (like most avid blog readers) preferred to read my posts in the comfort of his cozy RSS reader rather than virtually traveling all the way to my grungy old blog, I realized that renovating my blog would be a pointless exercise. So I promptly enabled access to entire posts via RSS feed and began to ponder about the bloggeristic future.

Now that RSS feed is becoming the norm, is designing good looking web pages going to become a thing of the past? What about statistics on blog readership? How can the bloggers judge their blogs popularity? All technorati does is rank according to the number of referrals from other blogs and maybe page views (I am not certain) but those who are using RSS feed will not be counted by sitemeter or technorati…or will they?

I wonder if I will suffer from the empty blog syndrome ‘coz now I won’t be able to get so much as footprints of my readers in the form of sitemeter stats of number of visits and sorts. Even with a good readership following, I will still have the feeling of having a monologue with the virtual green walls. Are there ways in which I can get stats on these ghost readers? I should be entitled to get the stats on the RSS readers, after all I feed them. Or all I can do is sing…

Hello Hello Hello

Is there anybody out there?

Just click if you can read this.

Is there anyone home?

Come on, now.

I hear you’re reading posts.

If you know why I complain,

Click on the mouse again.

Relax.

I need some information first.

Just the basic stats

Can you identify yourself?

There are no stats and you are receding.

A distant ships smoke on the horizon.

You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I cant hear what you’re sayin.

When I was a child I had a sitemeter.

My hands felt just like two balloons.

Now I got the stats once again.

The low visit numbers I do not understand.

This is not how I am.

I have become comfortably numb.

Ok.

Just a little mouse click. [ping]

Therell be no more --aaaaaahhhhh!

But you may feel a little sick.

Can you click again?

I do believe its working. good.

That’ll keep the stats going.

Look at the hit count grow.

There are no stats, you are receding.

A distant ships smoke on the horizon.

You are only coming through in waves.

Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.

When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,

Out of the corner of my eye.

I turned to look but it was gone.

I cannot put my finger on it now.

The child is grown, the stats are gone.

I have become comfortably numb.

Miracle 101

The Vatican has started documenting ‘evidence’ to decree Pope John Paul II a saint. A candidate considered for sainthood is expected to have performed at least two miracles. The candidate may perform the miracles while s/he is alive or dead, although posthumous miracles earn brownie points because it proves that the candidate is in heaven and has close ties with God. Miracles performed posthumously by past successful candidates include lack of decomposition of their dead body. This one is a toughie to pull of because one has to posthumously convince all the flesh eating bacteria/insects/worms to abandon the idea of feasting on your ex-body. However, all hope for a miracle is not lost even if the candidate fails to stop the ex-body from decaying. Some candidates have scored miracles by making their decomposed remains smell like roses. Strangely enough those very candidates could cook up quite a stink with their farts when they were alive. God works in mysterious ways indeed.

Getting back to Pope John Paul II, he seems to have picked the old fashioned 'cure the sick' miracle for his application. Since the advent of Western medicine, miracles are hard to come by. But it is a dizzying victory when miracles heal where science has failed. Healings done posthumously are not only considered a bona fide miracle but are also regarded as a postcard from heaven.

“Hello mortals,
I am super happy to inform you that I have reached the Pearly Gates without any motion sickness. The security check was a pain in the ass...I beg your pardon rear end. But technically I do not have a butt anymore. Ahem! I digress. I have managed to successfully gain entrance into heaven. To expedite my sainthood application, I have put in a good word for Sister Blimey and Mr. Bullock.

Sincerely,
Artist formerly known as John Paul II.

P.S.: God says hi.”

Turns out Pope John Paul II has some awesome connections in heaven and his fast track sainthood processing is the envy of every green card applicant. Along with the latest American Idol results, CNN brings this miraculous story of posthumous miracles performed by the ex-pope.

The evidence gathered and handed over at the ceremony at Rome's Basilica of St John includes testimony from some 130 people as well as scrutiny of his life,spoken words and writings. [...] They include documentation on the case of Sister Marie Simon-Pierre, a 46-year-old French nun diagnosed with Parkinson's -- the same disease that the late pope had -- until she said it inexplicably disappeared two months after his death. Simon-Pierre, who worked as a maternity ward supervisor in Aix-En-Provence, could be central to the case since the Church demands proof of a medically unexplained healing before a candidate can be beatified. [...] "My healing was the work of God through the intercession of John Paul," she said.

Evidence for having performed at least 2 miracles to be decreed as saint is quite a tall order some might say. Was being celibate, feeding the poor, dedicating your life to alleviate human suffering not enough? But despair not…it is actually the easiest of the prerequisites to fulfill. As the savvy gecko would put it, "It is so easy, even a caveman could do it". Here is how it works…find somebody who has a disease that western medicine cannot cure yet. Next, convince the subject that you can cure him by acting as a medium of God BUT (and the but is very important in case of failures, so make sure you put the but in) patient must have unquestioning faith in God. If patient dies despite your blessings then you simply blame the patient or even the planets. Even the sky is not the limit here, you are only limited by your imagination. You can blame your patient for not having a pure heart, sinning too much to be saved by the blessing or it could all just be God’s plan. So no need to be too hard on yourself if your miracle is a total dud. Just pull something out of your ass and they would buy it…no questions asked. That’s the best part…the evidence lies in the eyes of the beholder and the lack of evidence lies in the eyes of sinners who will be admonished to hell. So yay! Then there are times when people bounce back to good health and nobody can explain what the fudge happened. This is the time to jump in and take all the credit. Tada! A miracle! Although resist all temptation to utter “Tada!” aloud after the miracle is performed or the miracle’s status will be down graded to a magic trick.

Now miracles can get you the title of being a saint but it is a title that will be bestowed upon you only after you are dead. I know, a true artist is never appreciated in their lifetime. Look at Jesus, the poor guy not only walked on water but even made wine from it. Still there were people going, “I don’t know, what else have you got?” But hope is never lost in the house of God. If you impress people with your miracle healings you will have a cult following in no time. You can have your own dominion where people will do all kinds of insane things for you. You get to play Simon says all your life and you are Simon!

If you are really good, you could even own a city.

Latin Idol

This week on American Idol (AI): Latin week!
Fasten your seat belts, turn off the volume and resist your urge to pull out your hair. This is American idol.

Tanananananana oooohooooooooo tanananananana.

Keeping with the latin theme, our guest mentor this week is Hennifer Lopez
J. Lo : Ola everyone. Today I will teech you how to top the music chart with no singing talent whatsoever.
Sanjaya Malakar (yawn): Teach me something new.
J. Lo. : Let me hear you guys sing. You, what is your name?
Melinda : Melinda Dolittle.
J. Lo. : OMG I love Dr. Dolittle.
Melinda : Great.
J. Lo. : Go for it.
Melinda (sings melodiously): When marimba rhythms start to play...
J. Lo. : Woah woah woah! You’ve got it all wrong. You are focusing too much on the singing and not so much on the dancing.
Melinda : But I can’t dance.
J. Lo. : Really? Wow! You are one lucky chica to be in the top eight. Who is next?
Hayley (off key): Ooh bay…hay…hay…bee…heeeeeee.
J. Lo. : Hold it! I have one word for you. Cleavage. (Intense pause). It is a powerful thing. Let’s hear some boys sing.
Chris (sings in a boy band voice): Maaan it’s a hot one…
J. Lo. (exhales deeply): Have you learned nothing from Ricky Martin? This is Latin week people! Who can tell me what the main ingredient of a Latin song is?
Sanjaya : Duh! RAM
J. Lo. : That’s right Sanjaya. No wonder you are the crowd favorite. Without RAM or Rapid ass movement you are singing on thin ice. If all you do is sing then the ice will crack and down you go in the icy hole of anonymity.
Chris : What the hell is she talking about?
Haley : Ssssshhh
J. Lo. : You are arteests and the stage is your canvas. Si? When you sing you make a painting on the stage using your ass as a paintbrush. So you work on different strokes…the pendulum stroke, the mortar and pestle stroke…si?
Sanjaya (slaps J.Lo’s butt) : Baby can I have your number.
Contestants : Gasp!
J. Lo. : The one and only guy who gets what this is all about. Networking by getting phone numbers. Might I add the punk hairdo was genius! You guys can learn so much from Sanjaya. When you hear the name J. Lo., what is the first thing that comes to your mind?
Contestants : Grin awkwardly.
Sanjaya : Duh! Ass.
J. Lo. : That my friends is called branding. Sell yourself like a product. Study my video called I'm glad video before you take the stage this week.

Male contestants (watch with mouths hanging wide open) : I am so glad I watched that.
Female contestants take notes furiously.

On the AI live show:
The show opens with all the contestants performing a song together on the stage. Everybody is rubbing nipples, breathing heavily and humping everything in sight.

J. Lo. (Eyes tearing up) : Oh I am so proud that AI is serving as a platform for representing my culture and heritage. My job is done.
Seacrest : It is hot hot hot tonight ladies and gentlemen. And now for the individual performances. Take it away Haley.
Haley (in shorty shorts): Screeeeeech
Randy : Yo! So check this out. You were pimpin' the song too much ho…I mean yo!
Paula : Hic
Simon : Hideous performance, sexy legs.
Seacrest (turning green): I am standing right here! Next up LaKisha Jones .

The set tremors on a scale of 2 on the Richter scale.

Audience : Wow dramatic entrance! Great special effects.
Special effects guy : What special effects?
LaKisha (wearing a red dress 3 sizes too small): Ooooohhhhh
Fat oozing from dress and jiggling.
Audience (shielding their eyes): It hurts! It hurts!
Randy: Woah! Yo! Doh! No no no!
Paula: Hic!
Simon: Jello’s marketing department called, they want you to be their mascot.

Blake : Beep-bop-beepity-bopity-boo
Audience: Boohoo

Sanjaya : Makes sweet love to the camera in Spanish.
Simon : You raised your performance tonight just like the hair on my hairy chest. That was genius.
Seacrest (changes shades of green and red) : You make me sick.

Vote for the worst and Howard Stern camp : What the fuck is going on? I don’t know who we are voting for anymore.
Producers of AI: The ratings just get better and better! J. Lo. was a great idea. Is Paris Hilton available for the next show?

Crucifixion of Reason

I felt a chill go down my spine when I watched this video of a man volunteering himself to crucifixion every year. It is fanatical passion like this that scares me. It is unquestioning faith like his that threatens me to the core. This man has abandoned reason. He knows that his wife and daughter survived a life threatening event because of Christ's blessings. In return this man volunteers himself for crucifixion every year. He probably lives by the bible. Science could and has falsified the very foundation of the bible (and probably every other religious text) but there is no scientific evidence that you could offer this man to make him question his faith in God. Such is the impenetrable armor of faith.

He will be the sheep and follow his Lord. His body is an instrument for God's work and God will speak to him through dreams visions. God will send him signs to find his way to heaven. God will guide him to his mission of spreading the word of the bible, fighting the devil disguised as reason. This mortal human is one of the millions of humble servants of the dictator in high heavens. His master wants his servant to pay the debt with blood and flesh. And pay he will. Self mutilation washes away his sins. Self flagellation disciplines his body. Pain curbs his sinful urges.

God has decreed this warrior to restore God's dominion on earth. A righteous war is inevitable. Jihad! Jihad! Slaughter the sinners who do not obey the word of the Lord. The Gods are thirsty for blood. Sacrifice a goat, or a virgin or some heathen. A holy war to cleanse the unholy soul. Open your unquestioning hearts and minds to be blessed by the Lord. Bow and dissolve your ego. Beg and grovel to him. Appease him or face his fury.

For in God you trust and in ignorance you find bliss.

Chapter 8: The Devil wears Gocci

Vyasa (V): Like most girls recovering from heartbreak, Devyani decided to focus on socializing instead of brooding at home. One such warm summer afternoon, Devyani was hanging out with princess Sarmishta and her group of friends. After a game of hide-and-seek, the girls decided to cool off by taking a communal bath. Glistening in their sweat, the succulently developed women stripped off their clothes and ran in slow motion towards the calm, soothing water of the river.

Ganapati and Vyasa are lost in image for a minute.

Ganapati (G): *cough* *cough*

V (sheepish grin): Ahem…where were we? Ah, yes. Moving on.

G lowers trunk and resumes writing

V: While the women soaked in the cool water, a swift summer breeze blew by the river and shuffled the clothes lying by the river bank. The women giggled and frolicked in the water to their hearts’ content, and then decided to make their way home. The clothes were sorted out and the bathing beauties covered their assets. Princess Sarmishta noticed that her new designer dress by Gocci was missing.

Sarmishta (S): I am going to be so mad if I find as much as one stitch messed up
Friend 1 (F1): But who could possibly steal it?
Devyani (D) (walks by wearing the Gocci outfit): Ready to leave girls?
S (Gasp!): What the fuck? That’s my dress, bitch!
D (pretends to look astonished): Oh! I must’ve confused my dress with yours.
S: Confused my Gocci dress with your Valmiki-mart rags? Yeah, I would believe that…if you were blind and retarded.
D (in tears): You don’t have to be so mean! You can have your dress back.
S: I am being mean? First, you steal my dress. Then you lie about being confused. I did you a favor by letting you hang out with us A-list socialites and you were the one back-stabbing. Give me my dress back before you ruin it, you filthy low-life fat-ass bitch.
D: Did you just call me fat?
S: No. That would be filthy low-life fat-ass bitch.
D: That’s it!

Devyani lunges on to the princess and goes straight for her hair

G (excited): Catfight!
V: The princess tries to fight back, and in the tackle, there is a distinctive sound of cloth ripping, that is heard across the forest.

S: That better not be my Gocci tearing!

Sure enough, a big gaping hole had made its debut on the otherwise pristine dress.

S: That’s it! You’re going down…the well.
Everyone: Gasp!
D: No. Please. This is all a big mistake. My dad can bring dead people back to life. I am sure he could fix your dress.
S: Clearly you know nothing about fashion if you think your dad can fix a Gocci. Girls, shall we?

The princess and her friends pulled Devyani near a dry well and dumped her into it. Devyani pleaded and cried, but the girls walked back to the palace without her. Devyani whimpered in the dark well all alone, waiting for her dad to find her.

S: We in Vrishaparva take fashion crime seriously, and honey when she put that Gocci on, she asked for trouble. Let that be a lesson for anyone who even thinks to put a scratch on my Gocci. Hell hath no fury like a woman with her Gocci torn
Friend 2 (F2): Yeah, you showed her.

V: Why Ganapati, you are awfully quiet today.
G: Hot naked chicks bathing in the river, catfights…it’s all good. No complaints.
V: Huh! Who knew? Anyway, let’s continue with the story.

Meanwhile in the dry well.

D: It is dark, cold and lonely here…I am beginning to feel claustrophobic…Is that a spider? Aaaaargh!!

Devyani’s shriek reverberated in the forest. As luck would have it, a handsome youth was wandering around in the forest.

Handsome Youth (HY): Why, that sounds like a damsel in distress. Hello! Is somebody there?
D (hoping it is some handsome prince): Help!

The youth follows Devyani’s voice to the well.

D: Thank God! Please rescue me from this death hole.

The youth bends over flexing his taut muscles, and pulls out Devyani from the well. Devyani is struck by the youth’s surfboard abs and charming dimpled smile.

D (clutching the youth’s muscular arms): Oh my, looks like somebody has been working out.
HY: It is getting dark. You should be heading home.

It could be the proximity to the river, or the youth’s charismatic presence, but blinded by infatuation, Devyani proposes to the youth.

G: About time somebody proposed by the river.
V: Unfortunately for Devyani, she had uttered the words that would send any commitment-phobic guy scampering like a scared mouse.

HY: Er…I am not sure. We just met. I hardly know you.
D: Well, that can be fixed. You can know me all you want. The night is still young and so are we.
HY: Look, I am a kshatriya and you are a brahmin girl. Even if our horoscopes match, society would never accept our union. I am sorry, but no can do.
D: I can’t believe you are saying no. It’s my ass, isn’t it?
HY: There’s nothing wrong with your ass…I mean…not that I was looking…I mean…with you…I mean…I have to go now. Bye

The youth scampered away like a terrified mouse. Miffed, heartbroken, and lonely, Devyani made her way home, determined to take her revenge on the princess.

(…to be continued)

Crispy wafers with Crys

In light of Crystal Blur’s predictable failure for nomination in Indibloggies , the ego deflation wasn’t enough. So one decided to interview Crys to needle her with poignant questions. A hideous attempt to mock Crys by putting her under a microscope in her darkest hour. Styled after a recent post of self-proclaimed bimbette of desi blogosphere Megha, here’s Crispy wafers with Crys. In conversation with Crys.

A dingy multicolored basement which should be manned with a biohazard level 3 sign. The interviewer Crys is wearing a tube top and a skimpy skirt to cater to the male audience. One florescent light flickers ominously as the interviewee Crys stumbles into the basement wearing a polka dotted dress where each polka dot is the diameter of 28mm.

This part of the program was not sponsored.

Crys: Good morning Crys!
Crys: (Yawn) Where are the wafers?
Crys: Um…sorry the crew got hungry.
Crys: What crew? It is just you and me.
Crys: Will tic-tacs work?
Crys: You got me out of bed at 10 o-fucking clock and you don’t even have wafers? On top of that you accuse me of having bad breath by offering me mints? I may be many things but carrier of bad breath I am not!
Crys: Wow! Missed the morning coffee eh? I didn’t accuse you of anything Crys. How about we start over?
Crys: Hmph!
Crys: Okaaay…I am sorry. Now will you cheer up?
Crys: Double hmph! (Hands folded across the chest. Foot tapping.)
Crys: How about we walk down to the Krispy Kreme and I buy you a donut?
Crys: I knew you would come around. Krispy Kreme with Crys? That works.
Both head to the Krispy Kreme a block away.

This part of the program was sponsored by Krispy Kreme…I wish.

Crys: How does it feel to not even get a nomination for Indibloggies? Do you feel hurt, rejected, suicidal, all of the above?
Crys: Huh? Actually none of those…it doesn’t bother me.
Crys: I see you are in the denial phase right now.
Crys: No…I am okay really. You see I am a method blogger like Aamir Khan. Ofcourse I wouldn’t grow a method mustache if I wrote a blog about …well men with mustaches. But just like Aamir doesn’t care for Filmfare, I don’t care for Indibloggies.It is as simple as that.
Crys: In all fairness to Aamir, he was nominated for Filmfare awards.
Crys: Minor difference in perception.Van Gogh didn’t sell a painting in his life. Does that mean he wasn’t a great artist?
Crys: So now you are Van Gogh?
Crys: No I am not saying that. I am saying popularity has nothing to do with artistic talent as clearly demonstrated by American Idol.
Crys: Did you just compare Great Bong with Sanjaya Malakar ? (Gasp!)
Crys: Jesus Cryst! Why are you putting words in my mouth? I did not say that. Great Bong is great. In fact I admire how he maintains the quality and quantity of his blog posts. It is quite amazing really.
Crys: So you are saying that Great Bong is really a pseudonym for more than 1 person because one person could not possibly write so frequently without losing quality of the blog?
Crys: No! That is not what I meant. Why are you making stuff up?
Crys: Relax…you are doing just fine. Trust me, I know what the readers want. You won’t be putting your proverbial foot in your mouth in this interview. We will be using the old media trick of putting question marks at the end of all the blatantly speculative statements. So it would read, “Great Bong, a man with multiple personas or multiple persons posing as one man?”
Crys (pouting): I thought this interview is about me.
Crys: So what should your readers expect from your blog?
Crys: Well I am always bubbling with ideas. Dabbling in different subjects. I am still not ready to commit to any one topic and make it my niche. That is sort of the advantage of being at the bottom of the ladder…the only way to go is up.
Crys jots down: Crys says what goes up must comes down. All popular bloggers headed for failure?
Crys: Oh here we are. I am starving. Original glazed puhleese.
Crys: I will have one too.
Crys: Great.
Crys: Er…can you pay for this? I am a little low on cash.
Crys: You said it was your treat?
Crys: It is…I will pay you back later. What you don’t trust me?
Crys: Oh alright.

Just like chrysanthemum flowers, Crys and Crys bloomed with joy as they sunk their respective teeth in a heavenly bite of original glazed Krispy Kreme donut.

Boondocks

I was rummaging around in the anime section of Blockbuster hoping to find something worth watching after Barefoot Gen and unbelievably I struck gold. I picked out the first disc of the one and only season of Boondocks. I had never heard about the show. But the cover was intriguing. A black kid’s face stared intently from the cover. I had never come across an entirely black character cast in animation so that alone intrigued me. The episode descriptions looked pretty funny too. So I checked it out.



I was blown out of my mind by Boondocks. It is a bold satire that manages to hit a nerve with the political and black cultural issues. The humor is refreshing. I was even more amazed to find out how young the author Aaron McGruder was when he started writing the comic strip on which this animation is based.

I can’t wait for season 2 which will be released this June. You can check out the awesomely designed website for Boondocks or catch an episode on Cartoon network Adult swim .

Here is a clip from one of the episodes. Enjoy.
Warning: Strong language.

Back into the spamming hole

I am very careful about venturing into unknown websites on the internet after being burned twice…well thrice if you count yesterday. The first time I was suckered, I thought I would never get suckered again. This happened several years ago when I didn’t know better than clicking on pop ups. (Snicker all you want but this story needs to be told to save some unsuspecting trigger happy soon to be victim). On that fateful day I was happily browsing Calvin and Hobbes and suddenly a pop-up popped out of no where and told me that I was the 100,000th visitor and I had won some fabulous prize. With some twisted logic I decided that since it was a pop-up on Watterson’s site it couldn’t be horribly bad to check out the prize. Who doesn’t want to be a winner and who doesn’t like to get free stuff? What could possibly go wrong as long as I don’t volunteer my real name or social security number or bank account number? One click on the pop-up transported me to a website which had a simple form which asked for my email id to mail me the coupon or something. So I filled in my non-work id. Next? Then the form started getting pushy and asked me to fill in some sensitive information and I called it quits. I was disappointed that I was not going to get a prize after all but at least I wasn’t going to be an identity theft victim. At least it was over. WRONG! After that day it has been 3 years and I get unbelievable amount of spam on that email even after the spam filters block out whatever they can detect as spam. I can’t tell you how many versions of the Nigerian lottery scam email I have received.

The second time I got royally screwed on the internet was when I was searching for some song lyrics. This was the nastiest incident. I literally walked into a worm hole. I googled for the lyrics and clicked on one website and before I knew it my computer screen was splattered with pop-ups. Yes I had a pop-up blocker on and that didn’t help. Anyhow, I tried to close the pop-ups and that was a bigger mistake than opening that website. After that I had no control over my computer. It was possessed and beyond any human control. It was impossible to get on the internet because the ghost in my machine would take over and transform my computer screen into a bulletin board for online poker and naked chicks. I had to put my computer in rehab for almost a week to get it back to normal. No more unprotected activities for my computer since then.

All was well with me and my computer until yesterday. I wanted to conduct a poll on my website so I googled ‘free poll’. I picked one of the search results and was pretty impressed by the site. This site looked very professionally done and there was not a single ad in sight. So I started with registration. The website asked me to create a login with email id and create a password. Regular procedure so did that. Then it send an email to the id I had provided and asked me to do the confirmation procedure by logging on to my email, clicking on the link they sent and thus confirming the account. Did that. Then they asked me to set up the poll. Smooth sailing so far. Then enter the website where this poll will be published. Done. Then a link was generated and I needed to paste it on my website. There was also a warning that if I changed this link then my account will be deleted. So I paste this link in my post on my website and look at the preview. The m**f**ing link was for an online poker website! I realized I had just volunteered another email id to be on some list for endless spam!
Please do not register on http://www.easy-poll.com/ . You will end up on some spam list.

I was also left wondering if there were ways to test the authenticity of a website before engaging with the registration procedure. I know how to figure out if a website I already use like say a bank website or paypal is not authentic. I want to know how I can determine whether a website that I have never encountered before is reliable. If you have any tips on this issue then please share them with me.

Dog's best friend

A recent article in BBC* reported that stray dogs killed a 3 year old boy in Bangalore. Since then the Indian municipality has taken action by slaughtering dogs. There have been several debates about handling this issue until last week CPCSEA (Committee for the Purpose of Cruelty and Supervision of Experiments of Animals) announced that they are proposing a new alternative solution to deal with strays. CPCSEA have put forth a proposal to stop the strays from breeding and thus control the stray population on the road. Neutering the dogs has been an old practice but the CPCSEA deems neutering inhumane too. They are promoting use of dog condoms.

Although dog condoms have been effectively used in the United States recent product recalls** have been a big blow to the dog condom industry. CPCSEA remains confident that their solution will be effective in humanely controlling the stray population. CPCSEA is planning to put up an online petition for usage of dog condoms by the muncipality.


* http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/6407983.stm
** http://dogcondoms.com/