Click to enlarge and download. There's another one a little way down this page, if you'd like.
Inspiration courtesy: gapingvoid
Wallpaper
Click to enlarge and download. There's another one a little way down this page, if you'd like.
Inspiration courtesy: gapingvoid
Drool The Apple
Reverence is what I feel each time I see an apple product. That includes their website. Clean. Aseptic, even. Crisp. Friendly. And so design-oriented. I'm not getting into what makes them iconic. That's there for you to see. But perhaps you'd like to go to this website and drool.
Ahem! There's a line on the header of this website that goes "The picture of the fictitious Apple product was made". Leaves you in some doubt. But then you don't have to pay to drool.
Sam Bourne: And My Righteous Indignation
Now, I do admit that it's mighty easy to smear the work of others. But I'm doing it now. Without further preamble, let me tell you that I found this book The Righteous Men by Sam Bourne a huge let down. There isn't a story in there. But guess why I picked it up? Because the tag read - The end of the world is coming. One body at a time. Boy! That’s dramatic by any standards and then the first page was pretty taught too. And I was suckered. I must admit, that I read this book through, trying to figure out what I'd missed as I turned the pages. It turned out that I didn't miss much.
There’s even a review by Mirror right on the cover that reads: the biggest challenger to Dan Brown's crown. Pha! Nothing could be further from the truth. I enjoyed Dan Brown's da Vinci Code immensely. The logic there was woven in well, plotted studiously and the pace never slackened even when the story swung into historic detailing. But that's not the case here. It’s plain boring. And the code breaking here isn't well explained. At least Brown drew it out for you. Here, Bourne, just describes it in the most vague manner. I didn't get it, I swear.
This man was trying mightily to do another Dan Brown. I wonder if Brown himself could do it again, let alone others. Spend your money elsewhere, because as sure as eggs are eggs, this is a rotten one.
I’m sorry Sam; it doesn’t feel good to be an armchair critic. God forbid, if I were to write a book and were to read such a review, I’d want to personally rip the critic apart. But Sam, Sam… the promise of grandeur that was apparent on the cover of your first fiction work didn’t go beyond the cover. Why!
Casino: Royale Indeed!
I guess we were all wrong about the choice of 007. This one seems to be as lethal as they come. I must admit I haven't seen it yet, what with it being released just yesterday and it being a hectic workday.
But reliable word of mouth is that Casino Royale is a real spectacle. Bond seems to have gone a whole league away from stereotype. I must see this movie, if only to prove a point to that loud little voice in me.
But reliable word of mouth is that Casino Royale is a real spectacle. Bond seems to have gone a whole league away from stereotype. I must see this movie, if only to prove a point to that loud little voice in me.
Wallpaper
Bhargav hates school. Any guesses what he likes doing instead? Ok. You’ve guessed. And his mother is all for it. Aren't there times when we'd wished our parents would just let us be - to follow our calling, if ever there was one? I guess to each one of us it's a story-never-to-be-told, as big as War and Peace itself, though not as profound perhaps.
Click on the picture to enlarge and download as wallpaper. Meanwhile what's your story? What did you not become and would still love to be, secretly?
Hindi in 30 Hours!
You're off to Mumbai. But there's the problem. You don't know a word of Hindi. What if you suddenly needed direction to the loo? Or you wanted to take a quick shit and you can't for your dear life figure if you'd have to head east or southeast to do the deed? Oui ma! Whatever will you do in these situations that strip even a diplomat of all finesse? There's a thought.
Ugh... while you're contemplating that one, you'd be amused to know that the enterprising always find a way. And in the process, they never, ever forget to etch deep in their grey cells the equivalent for 'I love you'. Because there's no better time for a delicious two-minute romance than on travel. Especially by train.
Do you follow Hindi? If so click on the picture for an enlargement and enjoy the fine nuances of translation.
Wallpaper
Click to enlarge and download, if you prefer. (Please prefer ... I'll close my eyes while you do).
Inspiration courtesy: gapingvoid
Murals You’ll Want For Your Walls
Please, please do forgive me for the horrible lighting in the photograph. A Canon A240 forgets it's a camera, when in dull light.
I know I do injustice to the mural in the picture and to the artist. Sandhya has just completed her very first mural. And lookee! She’s framed it too. That's a stunner for a first. But then she's no novice.
She's been painting since she was a child. Oh, and she paints t-shirts too. I mean she used to paint on them - the most amusing designs that were a hit with children and the college crowd. She's held her own exhibitions at Vimonisha too. And after all that she's attending mural school now, if that's what the place is called. And that there, is the result. Tada!
You could mail her at sandykush@yahoo.com. Now don't get ideas. She'll only entertain fan mail.
Aping Google
There are so many who do the aping bit and yet they're nowhere near the one they are aping. Ugh... do you think imitation is the sincerest means of 'catching up' or 'getting the better of' or even 'inflicting token damage'?
Look at these examples. If you notice they have such generic names. One's called Find. The other's called Live Search. The one they're collectively aping calls itself Google. Hey! But Google doesn't mean find or search. And yet it's synonymous to search. Today they Google it on the web. They don't search. They Google. I'm not sure how popular Live Search is. But I do know that it's an also ran from Microsoft.
So is imitation the sincerest means of ‘pulling the pants down’?
I'm Back!
And to think that it took an article in rediff.com to get my engines running again! Aren't we all greedy?
Christ! No offence meant. I'll quickly make that a politically correct statement - ain't I a greedy one? There! You can stop glaring now. But you'd sure like to know where the 'greedy' bit came from.
I was just reading that blogging brings in the moolah! Man, I'd love to have buckets of that. Well maybe not as much as Bill what's-his-name. But enough to have me going to Goa on a Monday, lazing it out on a Tuesday, rolling over on a Wednesday and so forth. You get the drift don't you?
No. No. No. Don't go back to rolling your eyes. They don't look pretty. Maybe you'd like to read this rediff.com article I'd just mentioned, instead.
But wait! Don't forget to come back here. Often! You've got a moral responsibility to have me going to Goa on a Monday, lazing it out on a Tuesday...
Christ! No offence meant. I'll quickly make that a politically correct statement - ain't I a greedy one? There! You can stop glaring now. But you'd sure like to know where the 'greedy' bit came from.
I was just reading that blogging brings in the moolah! Man, I'd love to have buckets of that. Well maybe not as much as Bill what's-his-name. But enough to have me going to Goa on a Monday, lazing it out on a Tuesday, rolling over on a Wednesday and so forth. You get the drift don't you?
No. No. No. Don't go back to rolling your eyes. They don't look pretty. Maybe you'd like to read this rediff.com article I'd just mentioned, instead.
But wait! Don't forget to come back here. Often! You've got a moral responsibility to have me going to Goa on a Monday, lazing it out on a Tuesday...
Have You? Or Have You Not?
Love Thy Neighbour
Now, I'll need a dozen of those. Express delivery. This love thy neighbour schmuck-writ is getting much too much to handle. But one thing beats me, I don't have a lawn. Ugh...no home here in Chennai either. All I have are 'neighbours'. Could you help me? Please...
(Thank you Gali.)
Oui Ma!
Dude! That there is a mango. Ok. Ok. I know so much is obvious, unless you also see the telephone besides it. This is your normal telephone. Still think that this mango isn't news worthy? Ok. Try carrying the telephone to the dinner table. Dude! This mango is as big as a *!*&^*# telephone and heavier.
Tada!
...you mean you knew it all along. Ok. Did you also know that MANGO stands for Map-based Analysis for Non-formal Education Goals and Outcomes? This is a regional project by ACCU and UNESCO APPEAL to develop computer software and handbooks for analysis of progress in the achievement of NFE goals at the project and community levels.
What... it's not polite to stare like that.
Somewhere In Kerala
Here's one place that never fails to amaze you though you are a native. I shot this somewhere between Ernakulam and Kottayam (ok, that's quite a distance and I should know where this place is, but I don't. I was just going click...click...click...).
Click on the image to enlarge.
Fashion Poop
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Imagine. Toilet paper rolls in four colours, all soft and silky at $13 to $20 for a three-pack, in colour-coordinated tube packs. Ahem, packs to match too. So what’s twenty dollars in Indian rupees? 931.114 precisely. Isn’t that a bit too much to wipe arse with?
Photograph courtesy popgadget
Where Am I?
I shot this picture from the balcony of my office. So guess where this office is located?
How To Fart And Not Get Caught - III
You docked inside safe?
Good! Now as calmly and deftly as you can, put both palms on your cheeks, fingers slightly spread.
No. No. The other cheeks. You are not being taught to burp…
With the lesson so far? Excellent!
You are now in the launch mode.
Shhh! No sobbing in there. And shhh… No guttural intonations either. And… what?
Ok. Ok. We’ll cut the crap. Now spread your cheeks as wide as you can to allow free passage for the fiend.
Wait! Did you check for inflammable material on your person or immediate surroundings? Do… waaa… What did you just fling into outer orbit! Your lighter? Ok!
And wait! Do you have an exhaust running on kingdom-come-or-bust mode, well above your head? You do! And your palms are firmly on cheeks? Yes? Hallelujah…
All systems are go dude!
Part I Part II
Good! Now as calmly and deftly as you can, put both palms on your cheeks, fingers slightly spread.
No. No. The other cheeks. You are not being taught to burp…
With the lesson so far? Excellent!
You are now in the launch mode.
Shhh! No sobbing in there. And shhh… No guttural intonations either. And… what?
Ok. Ok. We’ll cut the crap. Now spread your cheeks as wide as you can to allow free passage for the fiend.
Wait! Did you check for inflammable material on your person or immediate surroundings? Do… waaa… What did you just fling into outer orbit! Your lighter? Ok!
And wait! Do you have an exhaust running on kingdom-come-or-bust mode, well above your head? You do! And your palms are firmly on cheeks? Yes? Hallelujah…
All systems are go dude!
How To Fart And Not Get Caught - II
Oh good, the launch pad (the poop ‘n’ pee place u *#@^) is free. And whoopee! There’s no one around. But! What’s that noise? Maybe you’re imagining things. Remember, when you’re all filled up and ready for release, there’s a chance that the gases could, you know… get osmotic.
Wait! You heard it wrong. It’s OSMOTIC. Not ASTHMATIC. Which means you won’t choke on your gut fumes. It’s just a postulate that it might fuddle your brains a wee bit, making you hallucinate. So you might go “What’s that noise” and all that. Now the explanation is complicated. Besides you’re in no mood for it, remember?
You’ve got business to do, so lets get rolling.
No. No. Not your eyes. That’s no way to release pent up gaseous fury. Dude, did you just try passing wind through your eyes? Momma! We better get down to the expulsion bit then. You must be ready to explode to try something like that!
Ok. Ok. That fierce nodding says it all.
Now get your butt into a cubicle.
You done? What?! Why’s the rest of you out! “Butt into cubicle,” means your whole frame into it. You need to shut the door, remember.
To be continued…
Wait! You heard it wrong. It’s OSMOTIC. Not ASTHMATIC. Which means you won’t choke on your gut fumes. It’s just a postulate that it might fuddle your brains a wee bit, making you hallucinate. So you might go “What’s that noise” and all that. Now the explanation is complicated. Besides you’re in no mood for it, remember?
You’ve got business to do, so lets get rolling.
No. No. Not your eyes. That’s no way to release pent up gaseous fury. Dude, did you just try passing wind through your eyes? Momma! We better get down to the expulsion bit then. You must be ready to explode to try something like that!
Ok. Ok. That fierce nodding says it all.
Now get your butt into a cubicle.
You done? What?! Why’s the rest of you out! “Butt into cubicle,” means your whole frame into it. You need to shut the door, remember.
To be continued…
How To Fart And Not Get Caught
So you know how to squirm. You know how to jam lock your release valve to prevent untimely escape of the wind genie. You even know how to blush a bright pink, come Armageddon.
Now learn how to pass the stinker with the finesse of a diplomat.
The trick, to begin with, is to release with at least token camouflage.
If you work on a shop floor you are one of those twice blessed ones who needn’t care a rats arse about the consequences of suspicious shifts in decibel and odor levels in your immediate surrounding. You are well camouflaged any way. And a fart or two wouldn’t bring the roof down.
But if you work in a nice-nice office with nice-nice people, you better learn up quick about out-smarting the flatulence genie before it’s too late.
Let’s suppose you’re at your nice-nice desk when the genie stirs within and gets progressively annoying. No amount of tightening your rear musculature is going to discourage escape. In fact you’ll only be walking into a highly explosive situation when the said musculature would willing give way, not unlike the pressure cooker on a bad day.
So before it gets fiendish, you must slowly slip to the rest room.
Of course, nice-nice offices have nice-nice rest rooms. Make sure you have your all-is-well smile firmly in place. And don’t squirm as you make a beeline for the launch pad. That’s a dead give away.
To be continued…
Now learn how to pass the stinker with the finesse of a diplomat.
The trick, to begin with, is to release with at least token camouflage.
If you work on a shop floor you are one of those twice blessed ones who needn’t care a rats arse about the consequences of suspicious shifts in decibel and odor levels in your immediate surrounding. You are well camouflaged any way. And a fart or two wouldn’t bring the roof down.
But if you work in a nice-nice office with nice-nice people, you better learn up quick about out-smarting the flatulence genie before it’s too late.
Let’s suppose you’re at your nice-nice desk when the genie stirs within and gets progressively annoying. No amount of tightening your rear musculature is going to discourage escape. In fact you’ll only be walking into a highly explosive situation when the said musculature would willing give way, not unlike the pressure cooker on a bad day.
So before it gets fiendish, you must slowly slip to the rest room.
Of course, nice-nice offices have nice-nice rest rooms. Make sure you have your all-is-well smile firmly in place. And don’t squirm as you make a beeline for the launch pad. That’s a dead give away.
To be continued…
And Another Wallpaper
This one is by little Malavika. All of five. Click on the image to enlarge and download.
Can Coca Cola Afford A Bounced Mail Now?
I don't do this. I don't go speaking behind people's backs, atleast on my blog. But this time I must do it. Coca Cola had published this advertisement in The Hindu and The Economic Times yesterday (09.08.06) quoting an email ID and a telephone number, inviting readers to a guided tour of their world-class facilities. As a blogger and also because I personally think the whole pesticide issue is a non-issue, I thought I'd contact Coke at the email address they'd given and cash in their offer, so to speak.
But my mail to them bounced. Not once but twice. Once yesterday. Once today. So I tried their number and found it's forever engaged. The only time I got a ring, I heard what I thought was the sound of a Royal Enfield Bullet riding over a horrible road, perhaps somewhere in Tada. I really did. Does that mean the number is an eye wash as well? I wouldn't know because I didn't try more than a dozen times.
Did anyone else try their email ID or numbers? It's indiahelpline@apac.ko.com and 0124-2348617/8 - lines open from 9.00 am to 5.00 pm says the ad. Click on images to enlarge.
Gate Man Diversions III
“Aandavane! This better be quick”, you warn yourself as you rush with the car keys to undo the snarl-up so cleverly created by Gate Jam.
And you ask yourself again “What am I you stupid man… your damn parking valet? What do you mean by throwing me your damn car keys after you’ve jammed the gate?”
But you manage to look outwardly cool, even when Gate Jam passes you by with his nose in the air, only because your Swapna must see you as her rescuer. Like in the movies.
Poor thing. She’d been waiting on the other side of the ‘jam’ for a bit now, perched delicately on her scooter, a little anxious perhaps…
So you jump into Gate Jam’s car (“damned two-bit tin box”), parked to perfection to effectively discourage entry or exit and manage to clear the jam, letting Swapna glide in.
She smiles her thanks. “She smiled! She smiled!” Your little gateman’s heart sings.
You almost look forward to another jam the next day. Well, if you can have a flash of that smile again… “Oui ma! I sure would like one of those again.” Your eyes are almost glazed over. And then through the pleasant haze you see Madame Smirk walk in with her sneer-that-passes-off-for-a-smile, arranged neatly in place.
“Ugh! No one would launch a thousand ships for her” you tell yourself with a shudder. “No one would unlock a jam for her. They'd rather let her remain on the other side of the jam…” What a screaming contrast! If Swapna was the warm sunshine, this one was the nasty brooding cloud.
“Maybe she’s a ‘he’ in disguise. What a drag!” you sniff as you laboriously fix your official smile, trying mightily not to mimic her smirk.
And you ask yourself again “What am I you stupid man… your damn parking valet? What do you mean by throwing me your damn car keys after you’ve jammed the gate?”
But you manage to look outwardly cool, even when Gate Jam passes you by with his nose in the air, only because your Swapna must see you as her rescuer. Like in the movies.
Poor thing. She’d been waiting on the other side of the ‘jam’ for a bit now, perched delicately on her scooter, a little anxious perhaps…
So you jump into Gate Jam’s car (“damned two-bit tin box”), parked to perfection to effectively discourage entry or exit and manage to clear the jam, letting Swapna glide in.
She smiles her thanks. “She smiled! She smiled!” Your little gateman’s heart sings.
You almost look forward to another jam the next day. Well, if you can have a flash of that smile again… “Oui ma! I sure would like one of those again.” Your eyes are almost glazed over. And then through the pleasant haze you see Madame Smirk walk in with her sneer-that-passes-off-for-a-smile, arranged neatly in place.
“Ugh! No one would launch a thousand ships for her” you tell yourself with a shudder. “No one would unlock a jam for her. They'd rather let her remain on the other side of the jam…” What a screaming contrast! If Swapna was the warm sunshine, this one was the nasty brooding cloud.
“Maybe she’s a ‘he’ in disguise. What a drag!” you sniff as you laboriously fix your official smile, trying mightily not to mimic her smirk.
Another Wallpaper II
Sankrit is all of seven. (Thought you'd like to know who's behind these wallpapers.) Oh, and that there somewhere is the IceMan. Did you spot him? Click on the image to enlarge.
Gate Man Diversions II
“Hrump!” you snicker to yourself while you flash a brilliant smile at Miss Haughty High Heels as she sails past you to an inaudible cha-cha. She hardly notices you. You’re a gate man after all.
“Hrump! I wouldn’t want any of that even if it were from the Salvation Army” you decide with your eyes still on the receding figure. “But damn, that looked good” you concede longingly nevertheless. “Maybe…”
You don’t get to complete your “maybe” because there stuck at the gate and honking in desperation is that “fruitcake who dreads the reverse gear”. His back bumpers stand silent testimony to his backup skills.
Today he’s managed to jam himself at the gate, between the gatepost and another car.
“The man’s brilliant. Maybe he wakes up thinking – ok today’s the day I must jam the gate – or maybe…”
Again you don’t get to complete your “maybe” because there behind Gate Jam, like a dream, is Swapna, “my Swapna” on her scooter, looking confused and a little annoyed.
Oh! You simply had to rescue her. But wait. Why was Gate Jam suddenly all macho and… why was he getting out of the car and… what! He’s throwing you the car keys while throwing a quick smile in the other direction. “Smart ass! Like I am his parking assistant.”
But then you simply had to rescue “my Swapna”…
“Hrump! I wouldn’t want any of that even if it were from the Salvation Army” you decide with your eyes still on the receding figure. “But damn, that looked good” you concede longingly nevertheless. “Maybe…”
You don’t get to complete your “maybe” because there stuck at the gate and honking in desperation is that “fruitcake who dreads the reverse gear”. His back bumpers stand silent testimony to his backup skills.
Today he’s managed to jam himself at the gate, between the gatepost and another car.
“The man’s brilliant. Maybe he wakes up thinking – ok today’s the day I must jam the gate – or maybe…”
Again you don’t get to complete your “maybe” because there behind Gate Jam, like a dream, is Swapna, “my Swapna” on her scooter, looking confused and a little annoyed.
Oh! You simply had to rescue her. But wait. Why was Gate Jam suddenly all macho and… why was he getting out of the car and… what! He’s throwing you the car keys while throwing a quick smile in the other direction. “Smart ass! Like I am his parking assistant.”
But then you simply had to rescue “my Swapna”…
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