so words seem to be the flavour du jour....sharanya, amogh n now me......only difference being most of these words have been made by me...:)
DISCLAIMER: do not ask for the point/logic/usage of these words
blukbluk- the sound bubbles make..dont ask me its usage in a sentence but its a lotta fun making that sound!!!
phudphud- a different way to pronounce purple.....got bored saying purple...ya i know that makes no sense...but what the heck!!
godify- murdering the word deitify
dobu/dibu- this ones my favourite! praCChi's new OFFICIAL name. I cant explain the origins of this word. but anyone who knows dobu will understand why i call her this.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Blah Again.
I am talentless. I can’t sing. I can’t dance. Actually I can dance. But my dance seems more like I’m trying to defy gravity. I think I inherited this from my father. The only difference being, he attempts to defy gravity, time and space all at once! As for singing, being a good little south Indian (formerly atleast!) I learnt Carnatic music briefly. When I ran out of excuses for not going, I decided to ‘officially’ quit. Not that I’m here to complain about my lack of any talent whatsoever. Au contraire, I see it as a blessing. Can you imagine what it feels like to go to random people’s houses and on request sing/dance there? You are just reduced to being an exhibitionist (ahem….or maybe not!)
Example: Mr. X, Mrs. X and Beta x had come home the other day. Superson Beta x sadly was a good singer. Needless to say, as soon as my family found out about it (not that finding out about that was difficult since Mr. X and Mrs. X did of course drop such obvious hints you would have been a idiot not to notice) Beta x was forced to sing. And sing he did! Which song you ask? Poor lil Beta x was made to sing every blessed song besides the national anthem (thank the lord for those small mercies)! Mr. X and Mrs. X’s faces were beaming so radiantly with pride that I had to shut my eyes to prevent permanent damage. Surprisingly, my family seemed immune to their abnormal bioluminescence since they were deeply engrossed in the music (No, they didn’t pull out any lighters, it was more of head shaking). And all throughout this musical extravaganza, Beta x was squirming with embarrassment at all the attention he was getting.
Now don’t get me wrong! I’m for singing and head shaking or whatever, but when I have something important to do, I don’t like people intruding and sticking their asses on my couch for hours together (In this case, the important thing to do was watch filmfare..hehehe!). All my puppy dog faces, scowls and grunts were completely ignored and to make maters worse Khandan X were forced to have dinner at home. And the embarrassemt didnt end there for Beta x. Stories were excavated from the dungeons of his life, turned, twisted and narrated like they had all happened yesterday. My heart goes out to all you talented blokes out there who have to give display their skills wherever you go. Actually, I would love it if some ignorant chap, who has never heard me sing, asks for a performance. I’d love to see the look on his face when I break into, “Meri pant bhi sexy, meri shirt bhi sexy….!”
Example: Mr. X, Mrs. X and Beta x had come home the other day. Superson Beta x sadly was a good singer. Needless to say, as soon as my family found out about it (not that finding out about that was difficult since Mr. X and Mrs. X did of course drop such obvious hints you would have been a idiot not to notice) Beta x was forced to sing. And sing he did! Which song you ask? Poor lil Beta x was made to sing every blessed song besides the national anthem (thank the lord for those small mercies)! Mr. X and Mrs. X’s faces were beaming so radiantly with pride that I had to shut my eyes to prevent permanent damage. Surprisingly, my family seemed immune to their abnormal bioluminescence since they were deeply engrossed in the music (No, they didn’t pull out any lighters, it was more of head shaking). And all throughout this musical extravaganza, Beta x was squirming with embarrassment at all the attention he was getting.
Now don’t get me wrong! I’m for singing and head shaking or whatever, but when I have something important to do, I don’t like people intruding and sticking their asses on my couch for hours together (In this case, the important thing to do was watch filmfare..hehehe!). All my puppy dog faces, scowls and grunts were completely ignored and to make maters worse Khandan X were forced to have dinner at home. And the embarrassemt didnt end there for Beta x. Stories were excavated from the dungeons of his life, turned, twisted and narrated like they had all happened yesterday. My heart goes out to all you talented blokes out there who have to give display their skills wherever you go. Actually, I would love it if some ignorant chap, who has never heard me sing, asks for a performance. I’d love to see the look on his face when I break into, “Meri pant bhi sexy, meri shirt bhi sexy….!”
Blah.
I hate marriages. Now wait! Before you can bombard me with the whole sacred-institution-of-matrimony discourse let me clarify. Its not marriages I have a problem with, it is more the aunt infestation I’m likely to encounter there that creeps me out. No, I said aunt infestation, not ant infestation! Allow me to explain..
I was at a random relative’s wedding. From a distance, I saw aunt no. 123 of mine coming charging towards me. I said my prayers and braced myself for the onslaught that was soon to follow. “Oh!! You look so thin!!” she said. “Nice meeting you too,” I replied wryly. Has it ever occurred to her that SHE might be fat and that’s why I APPEAR thin? I toyed with the idea of calling her fat for a while as she rambled on about me looking like a starved Somalian refugee but then decided to let it pass. Just then, she was interjected by aunt no. 198 who felt it was her moral duty to tell me that I had grown since she had last seen me, which was probably like a million years ago!! “You were so small when I saw you the last time. Now you are so big!” Well correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that how the life cycle proceeds?
What’s worse than one rambling aunt you ask? How about two aunts rambling at the same time!! Well after 19 minutes and 20 seconds (yes, I was actually counting seconds!) the Gods decided to show me some mercy and the rambling twosome decided that they had tortured this poor, hapless, thin child sufficiently and went on the look out for another victim. Without wasting a second, I ran for my life. I cowered down in one corner of the hall hoping and praying that I had managed to escape the aunt-radar.
Oh but no, the ordeal sadly continued. The Gods really do hate me!! Out sprang aunt no. 238 out of nowhere and smilingly asked, “Do you know who I am?” Oh! I know the answer to this one, I said triumphantly. “You are my mother’s-brother’s-wife’s-second cousin’s-husband’s neighbour.” “No, no darling!” she replied looking at me disapprovingly. “I’m your mother’s-brother’s-wife’s-second cousin’s-husband’s-neighbour’s third cousin.” Third cousin! You mean there is actually something like that? That was followed by a never ending lecture on the importance of knowing your relatives. Oh and to rub salt on my wounds, the food at the wedding tasted like horse poop!
And if you still don’t sympathize with me, let me tell you that this isn’t a one off incident. It is more of a ritual followed by all aunts at every wedding I attend. Yes that’s right! From aunt no 1 to aunt no 420! You might ask me a logical, rational explanation for their behaviour. The only explanation I can find, are in the words of a certain Mr. Bertram Wooster who remarked, “Aunts aren’t gentlemen!”
I was at a random relative’s wedding. From a distance, I saw aunt no. 123 of mine coming charging towards me. I said my prayers and braced myself for the onslaught that was soon to follow. “Oh!! You look so thin!!” she said. “Nice meeting you too,” I replied wryly. Has it ever occurred to her that SHE might be fat and that’s why I APPEAR thin? I toyed with the idea of calling her fat for a while as she rambled on about me looking like a starved Somalian refugee but then decided to let it pass. Just then, she was interjected by aunt no. 198 who felt it was her moral duty to tell me that I had grown since she had last seen me, which was probably like a million years ago!! “You were so small when I saw you the last time. Now you are so big!” Well correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that how the life cycle proceeds?
What’s worse than one rambling aunt you ask? How about two aunts rambling at the same time!! Well after 19 minutes and 20 seconds (yes, I was actually counting seconds!) the Gods decided to show me some mercy and the rambling twosome decided that they had tortured this poor, hapless, thin child sufficiently and went on the look out for another victim. Without wasting a second, I ran for my life. I cowered down in one corner of the hall hoping and praying that I had managed to escape the aunt-radar.
Oh but no, the ordeal sadly continued. The Gods really do hate me!! Out sprang aunt no. 238 out of nowhere and smilingly asked, “Do you know who I am?” Oh! I know the answer to this one, I said triumphantly. “You are my mother’s-brother’s-wife’s-second cousin’s-husband’s neighbour.” “No, no darling!” she replied looking at me disapprovingly. “I’m your mother’s-brother’s-wife’s-second cousin’s-husband’s-neighbour’s third cousin.” Third cousin! You mean there is actually something like that? That was followed by a never ending lecture on the importance of knowing your relatives. Oh and to rub salt on my wounds, the food at the wedding tasted like horse poop!
And if you still don’t sympathize with me, let me tell you that this isn’t a one off incident. It is more of a ritual followed by all aunts at every wedding I attend. Yes that’s right! From aunt no 1 to aunt no 420! You might ask me a logical, rational explanation for their behaviour. The only explanation I can find, are in the words of a certain Mr. Bertram Wooster who remarked, “Aunts aren’t gentlemen!”
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