Facebook For Parents

Dear readers,

I know I know I haven't written forever! But believe me, I had an iron-clad reason not to...you see, working as a Software Engineer has sapped all my creative juices. My activities have been reduced to:

• Stalking people I hate on Facebook
• "Upvoting" answers on Quora
• Ignoring Google+ notifications

That takes up most of my working day. In between, I compile my useless code which, believe me, hardly ever works. But it serves the purpose of taking up enough time for me to go and ping a friend something like "Can you believe - what she was wearing/who she was snogging- on Facebook?".

Quite a few family members of mine are on Facebook. Not very active apart from the occasional wall post on their own walls(really) and mentioning my embarrassing pet name publicly to the delight of my evil friends(seriously). You know where they are really active, though? Matrimonial sites. Yeah, I had the distinct pleasure of gawking, spluttering and hyperventilating in office when I discovered my own profile on one such site. Very loudly, let me add.

With a choice between a sheep, a monkey and a variety of pictures with drinks and food and cartoon characters from my Facebook profile pictures album, they smartly opted for some picture of me in a Saree where I looked pained while flashing a fake smile. A million other invasive details such as horoscopes, star signs, caste and stool samples follow. I stumbled upon the "Personalized Messages" section and that's when I was convinced that I was in the darkest corners of the Internet.

By the end of the ordeal, I was experiencing a weird emotion where the urge to kill someone was greater than the urge to make funny about-to-cry faces. Okay not that weird, considering I have had this feeling a million times before. I am wondering if I should ask my parents to change my occupation to "Potential Serial Killer".

Bitchin' In The Kitchen

For the past year or so, I have been living it up in Bangalore. Oh yeah...I have done some crazy shit. In fact, just the other day I had my curd rice with a side of cough syrup while bundled up in a blanket watching Sex and The City. I know. Naughty.

My bachelorette pad is the shizz. Just a stone's throw away from ten hep places serving dosas to auto guys. But enough about that. The reason I am writing this post is because I wanted to share something with you guys(Hello? Anyone?). It's a little bit of an embarrassing thing to admit but...ah hell, I am just gonna come out with it. I am a bit of a domestic Goddess. Booyah.

You see the symbol on the right? You think it's people in trouble calling Batman, right? WRONG BIATCH! It's actually people who flipped their dosas wrong and now they look inedible. Domestic Goddess got swag.

Enough about me though. I have been receiving a few questions as to how I maintain my general domestic awesomeness and as I love helping people I decided to answer their questions. Let's go!


I just wanted to know what I can do to salvage this curry I made. It's a little bl-

So simple. Just chuck in a pound of masalas. Whatever you have in the kitchen. Everything tastes better with a little brick powder in it.

Hey domestic goddess, my room is messy and I wanted tips on cleaning out the clutter because my mo-

Too many words. It's so simple, honey. Just take all the stuff that's lying around on your bed and throw it into the cupboard. No one is going to look there anyway. DUH.

We have a red ant problem and I don't know what to-

Tch tch not to worry. Just do as I say. Take some sugar and leave a trail leading up to your roommate's room. She will have the ants all to herself and you will have peace.

That's all we have for now folks. Send in your queries and some cookies and I'll think about answering them. Toodles, my water is burning.

Bottle, bottle, everywhere; Not a drop to drink

Yes, I haven't written for a long time. No, I am not going to apologize. Why? Because I was practically swamped at work. Okay, you can stop snickering now.

Moving on.

Recently, I was flying to Chennai from Bangalore. One centimetre on the map, 4k dent in the wallet. Sad. Anyway, during security check I was busy not listening to music but having the ear phones plugged into my ears so that noone talks to me when all of a sudden the girl in front of me was called by the Airport Security Lady. She ripped open the girl's bag and whipped out an extremely cool-looking, well-hidden Finlandia vodka bottle. She gave the girl a look of disgust and called the Airport Security Guy. The guy also gave her a dirty look.

Airport Guy: Madam you cannot take this.
Girl: But the bottle is empty. What is the problem?

So the guy walked off and after a lengthy discussion that involved a lot of bottle-smelling and back-slapping he returned.

Airport Guy: Arey madam...there is beer smell in this.
Girl: Sir, I washed it many times. The smell won't go completely na?

Airport Guy: No no why are you taking the bottle?
Girl: It's a gift for my sister.

Airport Guy: Arey madam how can you give anyone an empty gift? Hehe...what madam don't fool us.
Girl: No really it's a gift for my sister. She collects bottles.

Airport Guy: Hai this is something people collect? What kind of girls are you all? AREY RAMU....O RAMU!!! THIS MADAM HAS A BEER BOTTLE AND SHE IS TAKING IT FOR HER SISTER. LET HER GO OR NOT? 

By now the entire airport knew that a girl *SHAME* was taking a smelly "beer" bottle *GASP* for her sister *TAUBA*. Finally, Ramu did give his approval but not before giving her a speech about how true Indian women would never carry around beer bottles, let alone collect them.

I wonder what would have happened if the bottle was full.

Shoppers, Stop!

On Sunday evening, my mother came up with the oft suggested mother-daughter activity of (her) choice: Shopping. While I have more tolerance than my father/brother for such activity, I still prefer not to indulge in it. However, I relented and gave in. Because she is my mom and I love her. And because she bribed me with food. Mostly the first reason though.

But before that we had to buy a packet of milk because the milkman had some personal vendetta against my mother and he never put milk for us. I know...first world problems!

Anyway, we buy the milk packet and then we head into Shoppers' Stop. After perusing through the clothes at different speeds - me, at a super human speed eliminating almost all of them with a single glance, and my mother, stopping to admire each and every thread on each and every bead on each and every garment - I declared that I didn't like any of them.

While my mother and I were bickering, one of the attendants started approaching us. Immediately, my mother ran off at lightning speed. I was, to say the least, perplexed. The guy had just wanted us to sign a membership form! After I put a fake number on the card, I ran over to my mother who was hiding behind some handbag stand.

Me:           Amma, what happened? Why did you just run off like that!
Amma:     I thought he was going to catch us.
Me:           What? Why? Why would he catch us?
Amma:    No, I thought he saw the bag in your hand and thought the milk packet was a bomb.
Me:           .....soooooo you were going to leave me to get caught by these guys and run away?
Amma:    Haha I know!
Me:           ....carrying the milk that YOU bought? Seriously?
Amma:    Hey I gave birth to you. You cannot do this much for me? Vaaya moodu (shut up)!

Mission Impossible V - The IPL story

Mission: Get on TV during IPL match

Tools needed:

1) Tickets for CSK vs RCB. Check.
2) Dent in bank account. To be specific, a Rs. 1375 dent for the "Bagpiper special view". Check.
3) Hot friend(more probability of getting the camera to land on us). Check.
4) Weird props for cheerleading. Well, not really but hoping to grab some props from other spectators when they aren't looking. Check.

Preparation for the mission:
1) Tell everyone in office, including the China headquarters that I am going for the match. Check.
2) Dilly dally at work(in anticipation of the match, of course). Check.
3) Leave office at 4. Cash....I mean, Check.

Ideas that we flirted with:
1) Sit in a stand dominated by RCB supporters wearing red, while we wear yellow and support CSK. Smells like a death wish.
2) Hope for Gayle to smash a 6 so that one of us gets hit by the ball and we get admitted to the hospital. And then Gayle, along with the rest of the players come to visit us. Irrational much?
3) Get hot friend to gyrate sexily so that the spy cam spots us. Well, no luck there.

What really happened:
1) Cheering for CSK did not work. The RCB supporters started throwing their cheerleading props at us.
2) 1375? You would expect a nice seat. Well, the joke's on you. They were plastic Nilkamal chairs that creaked and groaned when you sat on them. I think it's because the rain weakened the molecular integrity of those chairs. Hmmm.
3) The match kept getting delayed. At about 10, we realized the match wouldn't happen since it was 2 hours behind schedule. So we trampled on many RCB fans' toes(the highlight of the evening) and managed to get out of the stadium.

The moment we were outside, the stadium erupted with noise and when we looked up we saw a little boy waving an RCB flag and calling everyone back. Naturally, being in the same stadium as 50,000 other people, you form a bond of mutual trust with them. So we ran back in.
At 10:45, the match got cancelled due to rain.

If you thought Mission Impossible IV was a flop, you thought wrong buddy.

Love Guru

Hello dear readers!

Yes yes, I am very much alive, unlike this blog. I was just having a rough couple of days. Deadlines
whooshing by and work stagnating in a half-baked state...not a good turn of events, my friend. Now that
I have realized work is never going to progress, I decided to pour my feelings out on this entertaining
(ahem) page. So, what am I going to be jabbering about today? Ah yes...single-dom and the makings of a
love guru.

I am a single lady. I would like to think it's because I am too 'independent' and 'strong' to be tied
down to some one. But basically it's because I have foot-in-the-mouth AND food-in-the-mouth
syndrome. However, let me clarify that I am not one of those 'Why doesn't he love me!?! I am forever
ALONE!' types. I genuinely have no interest in such shenanigans.

What's interesting is that even though I have never actually been in a relationship, people seem to look
up to me for advice. And I have no idea why. Apparently I give good advice and though it might not look
the case, I do keep my mouth zipped.

So how does one become a love guru?

•     No prior relationships:
  It's just like being a professor in my college...no prior experience and no knowledge about the subject whatsoever. Helps get an untainted perspective.

•     Bucket loads of patience:
  Seriously. Bucket loads. Buckets that can hold the tears shed by all the women in all Ekta Kapoor soaps. Because lets face it...people who are in relationships are stupid and unless you spell out everything for them a gazillion times, they're never going to understand.

•     A sympathetic ear:
  Breakups are inevitable. And once that happens, you will have to sit through a recap of their love story, what went wrong, who was wrong(obviously, the guy) and how the other person was the love of their life(do not point out that they went out for just 2 weeks). Even carbon dating will fall short while determining how long this saga will take.

•     The 'Awww' hormone: 
  Extremely important. He sent you a rose for Valentine's Day? Awww. He started watching Gossip Girls for you(of course, he's not watching it for Blake Lively's legs)? Awww. He said you looked like a Queen(although Queen Elizabeth is as old as a fossil)? Awww. See what I mean?

Damn...if only I got paid for my troubles.
       

Mom Calling

Phone rings.

Me: Hello amma...
Amma(talking to my brother): Aaan, thirrpi pizza order pannanamaa? (Oh, you want to order pizza again?)
Me: Hellooo hellooo amma!
Amma(still talking to him): Poda pichchu pichchu poduven...pizza-kuzza chi!!! (Get lost I will tear tear and throw you....pizzaa-schmizza yuck!!!)
Me: AMMMAAA!
Amma: Ennadi (What)? I am not deaf. Why are you shouting?
Me: Because you only wer.....gah, never mind!
Amma: Aaan. You had dinner?
Me:  Yeah I had.
Amma: What you had?
Me: Pav Bhaji at home / Out with friends.
Amma: Yesterday also you had that only, no? / How many times you go out?
Me: Yeah...leftovers. / Not much Amma!
Amma: Better you go out and eat. / Why you have a kitchen? Cook and eat at home!
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: You know Sarika?
Me: Eh? Who Sarika?
Amma: Arey! SARIKA!
Me: Shouting the name isn't helping, Amma! Who is she?
Amma: Appa's cousin sister's sister-in-law's daughter! You met her last summer, remember?
Me(Thinking thinking thinking...who the hell is this Sarika? ARGH play it cool...just say you know her): Oooh yeah heerrrr.
Amma: Podi, I know you don't remember! After few years, when I come to your house you will not remember me also! Then will you ask me "Who are you?", huh?
Me: Come on Amma...there's a very small chance of that happening!
Amma: Small chance aa? Adi paavi(you sinner)...anyways, about Sarika...you keep distracting me...
Me: Me? Ok whatever...tell.
Amma: Sarika just got engaged last week.
Me(entering dangerous waters. Must. Tread. Carefully): Mmmm.
Amma: She is your age...
Me(she is laying the trap. Do. Not. Fall. For. It): Mmmm.
Amma: What 'Mmmm'. You keep saying that only all the time.
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: Podi. She is getting married soon.
Me: Oh good for her.
Amma: Yeah. IT IS GOOD FOR HER.
Me: Yeah very good. I am so jealous of her.

Shit shit shit what have I done! Sarcasm with Mother India...BAD IDEA! ABORT ABORT!

Amma: Jealous? You are jealous? YOU are jealous? I don't know you or what...one day you HAVE to get married, okay? Jealous it seems. Let ME tell you something. When I was....

And it goes on and on for five whole minutes.


Amma: ...so don't think too much of yourself, okay?
Me: Mmmm.
Amma: Started 'Mmmm again'. I don't know why I call you. Keep the phone!
Me: Ok bye Am...

----CUT----

Repeat ad infinitum!

Murphy's Law for IT Professionals in Figures

I cannot tell you how many times the first one has happened to me. When I am absolutely sure of nothing but the error's occurrence(so that I can file it as a bug), this happens.

Also, the law of Non-overlapping of Office Timings.

Working is not all that cracked up as I imagined. Especially since my Facebook life is more exciting than my real life.

And of course, the inescapable 5-day Bell Curve. My apologies...doesn't look like a bell curve but imagine the lines are rounded at the peak.

If you have any, you can always contribute through the comments section.

Bananas, Dosas and Mallikas

I have a few points that don't merit a post by themselves, so I thought I'd put them all together. Also, I wanted to give my readers something to read. Fine fine, you caught me...I wanted to update the blog so I posted this. Now run along and read. Or better yet, read and then promote my blog y'all ;)

• Yesterday when I was in office at around 7:30 P.M.(still), I coughed. You should know that when I cough, Rajnikanth closes his ears.
  Anyway, I rushed home as fast as I could. I wanted to hit the sack as soon as possible(after eating Maggi and watching half a season of Dexter, that is). And guess what I see right next to my building?
  A cultural program(that's not so bad), where people were singing(the fuck...that guy just raped Rahman's song!) and cheap guys were standing all around(I am not even hot, what the hell is wrong with you!).
  Well, being the optimist that I am I just plugged in the earphones and watched Dexter hack a guy to death with a mallet. Ah peace.
  At about 10:30 P.M., I decided to sleep after drugging myself. I had heard somewhere that sarakku helps during a cold. But then I had weird thoughts like "What if the stuff reacts with the medicines I just took and bursts in the stomach the way Pepsi and Mentos kills people?", so I decided against it.
  There was no noise outside so I assumed the program was over. And that is when a man announced that they would be singing Kalasala Kalasala.
  
  Kalasala Kalasala Kalasala Kalasala
  Oh god no.
  Mallika is cold like a cucumber
  Pillow on face.
  My dear darling, Mallika is calling you
  Am I actually trying dance along with the song by varying my breathing patterns? STOP IT!


• This next point might get me into trouble because a lot of people related to me read this blog. But whatever. So recently I met one US return and you know how I feel about them. I tried being civil though. We went out for some good ol' South Indian breakfast and this person orders a dosa.
  And then you know what this person says? "Like, oh my god, this place is so authentic! Look how the dosa is...so authentic. Wow so messy....and so authentic". Every time that person said the word authentic with that irritating throaty tone, I wanted to wring that person's neck. But like the good girl I am, I kept quiet and inhaled two dosas faster than light.  


• Recently, I was taking the help of a superior. I was supposed to produce 2 files result1 and result2 which were strikingly similar. So I by mistake produced the same file twice and saved it as A and B What happened next is one of the funniest things that has happened to me since joining work.
  
  S: So which file is result1?
  Me: A is result1.
  S: And what is B?
  Me: result2.
  S: But looks like A and B is the same.
  Me: Nope.
  S: Wait. Look at the files. Now tell me...what is A?
  Me: result1.
  S: And B?
  Me: result....oh. It's result1 only.
  S: You watch tamizh movies?
  Me: Yeah. Why?
  S(laughing): Because this is like the vazhapazham comedy.

         Sooooo funny and embarrassing at the same time!

Players - The Review

Me: I am bored.
Amma: *Rolling her eyes* Oh, what a surprise. If you're bored, come help me in the kitchen no?
Me: Please...I am not that bored.
Amma: Fate! Idhukku oru chedi vechirindha poo aoodhu vandhurkum. Cha vaadi!(Translation: Instead of you, if I had kept a plant, at least I would've got flowers. Cha come here!)
Me: Ammaaaaaaa, I am watching something important on TV. I can't come!
Brother: Are you watching Godzilla on Sun TV?

And that is how, ladies and gentleman, I ended up in the theater to watch Players. Why anyone would watch the movie is as big a mystery as why anyone would want to see Veena Malik nude.But that's another story. So, the star power behind this script is:

Abhishek Bachchan: Playing the gay mastermind for the zth time. He plans the entire heist. He changes it whenever he wants. He wears pink shirts over orange pants with floral stoles. He is the man. And both Bipasha and Sonam are in love with him. Why do women always go for guys who aren't available?

Bobby Deol: He plays the illusionist. And what a great job he does...halfway through the movie he disappears, saving the audience a world of Bobby-related pain. For this very reason, he is my favourite character in the movie.

Sikander Kher: He appears in a dual role, playing a bomb expert and a plank of wood all at the same time! It's just not as easy as it looks, eh Mr. Kher? He is not just half-deaf in this movie. He is also half-dumb, judging by the number of dialogues he has.

Bipasha Basu: According to the trailer, she is a con artist. But I think that's a typo...she is actually the cans artist judging by the size and visibility of that rack. However, I have to admit Ms. Basu helped the director duo with their tight budget by sacrificing all her clothes. The sweetheart. Say it with me, people....Awwwwwwww!

Sonam Kapoor: Gold medalist in Computer Science? Fine. Such a good driver that she opts for circular parking instead of parallel parking(Check out 1:05-1:12)? I can accept that too. But what I cannot digest, is Sonam Kapoor's acting. She has just two expressions in the movie:

1. BFD(Before Father's Death): Happy and vomiting sunshine everywhere
2. AFD(After Father's Death): Constipation

Omi Vaidya: The comedian and the saving grace of the movie, Omi is a breath of fresh air in this otherwise stale, recycled script.

Neil Nitin Mukesh: The hacker. Although he does less of hacking and more of back-stabbing and chick-banging. After he turns villain, it's almost impossible to bear him because all he does is speak to his voice-controlled house(technology at its very ridiculous worst) in a sexy voice saying "Open the door, baby", "Next picture, baby", "Rub my neck, baby"...well, not the last one but you get the idea.

And this motley crew comes together in the following plot:

- Gold being transported from Russia to ^some place I forget^ by train

- Players get together to formulate a plan that will put Kindergarteners to shame. They get a train to run parallel to the gold train and steal the gold. By the way, the gold train has all sorts of protection. It has 3 boogies- the first and last contain horny Russian commandos(why horny? Because more than paying attention to the gold being transported, they are immersed talking to their partners) and the one in the middle contains the gold. Funny thing is the middle boogie has only 4 armed highly trained Russian commandos who are easily defeated by unarmed Abhishek's graceful ballet kick. Yup. Just THE man!

- Neil turns psycho back stabber and kills everyone. How do Abhishek, deaf guy and Omi escape after swimming in glacial water? Ah, silly viewer! The director duo has taken care of all the gaping potholes in the script by giving a scenic backdrop. So while they swim in water cold enough to yield polar bear Popsicles, the audience is shown the virgin blanket of snow in Russia.
How is it that Neil can smuggle an entire cupboard of gold easily while you have to declare that measly gold chain you're wearing at airport customs? Feast your eyes on the beautiful Auckland skyline!
How does a Russian General sing Raj Kapoor songs with ease? Shame on you...Bipasha is dancing in a costume which even Mowgli of Jungle Book wouldn't wear and you are bothered about the Russian General? Fool!

- Abhishek and his Players get the gold back from Neil. How? Sonam flaunts her assets while the rest of the Players steal the gold. They drive the most conspicuous cars in the universe(red, yellow and blue mini coopers) to transport the gold to Johnny Lever's garage.
In the process, Bipasha is shown to be in cahoots with Neil, and she is shot at the end. And Sonam shoots Neil for killing her father. Why didn't I mention the father before? Tsk tsk, don't get hung up on the technicalities.

- In his last few breaths, Neil informs the Russian mafia(whaaaaaaaaaat? I thought there was only Italian mafia!) that the Players have escaped with the gold. The mafia confront the Players who are now driving the mini coopers. When they check the  cars however, there's no gold. *GASP*
Where could it be? Here comes the final(thank the lord) twist in the story...remember that loose end about the cars being in Johnny Lever's garage? Well, he made three mini coopers of gold. Vechchaan aapu directoru!

And that is how Players provided me enough entertainment and motivation to come up with a blog post. Thank you, Abbas-Mustan. Thank you so much!

- Happy New Year to all my readers :)