Archive for May, 2009


So We Watched Wolverine Again…

First, the tag from SI – Five that came in a tag –

  1. Indifference
  2. Indifference
  3. Indifference
  4. Indifference
  5. Relief

And the post,

Papareboy, being his usual late self, said he hadn’t watched Wolverine yet. So off we went along with the guy who keeps falling in a plethora of ways(Always wanted to use plethora. Was just reminded of it at the last open mic. yay). Wolverine is so much more fun when you replace the characters on screen. Hugh Jackman also looses much of his appeal whe he just leaves Deli- Kaitlin to bleed to death. We also got to see Cyclops doing his thing and fumbling about blindly, just like in the other movies.

Oh, and we also discovered something else. Since we had a few minutes to waste before the movie started, we decided to call on a certain someone who’s been asking us to drop by in that area. But, try as we might, we couldn’t find anything remotely resembling what was described, no matter how far we walked. What truly put us in a conundrum was the fact that none of the area residents had ever even heard of the place. Surely we couldn’t have been fed lies?


Untiled-(I don’t know how many)

Looks like I’m going through a dry spell. I can’t think of anything to jot down here. Even now my attention is split between alternately typing a sentence and eating breakfast. I have to be careful not to get the chocolate on my fingers.

I need drama people. I need something to write about. Be it a flame war or a war-war. Maybe someone should post on some irrelevant topic like uh… Global warming or some other thing nobody really cares about. And then somebody should pretend to care and we can all get in a big fight, complete with expletives from one corner, threats from one, oh-so-aloof posts about it from another and carebear stares from Gehan.

There. Managed to finish eating with just slight stickiness on thumb. Hopefully the next person to use the PC will clean the keyboard.

ALSO. I am not mean. Going ‘Who the hell are you?’ at being introduced to someone is acceptable when you’ve just arrived at some place at night, after being out the whole day, to be told that your ticket has not been purchased yet, and there ARE none to be purchased. Well it should be.

It is a sad day for me. I just got left at the altar and even divorced. The ex, a certain blogger obsessed with small mostly edible fruits, got Hugh Jackman. I got the strippers form the hen party. Anybody want two male strippers best described as… well… male, Just barely?* At least they’re enthusiastic. Just sign in to twitter and DM @pseud0random, who seems to be the pimp around those parts.

So, get cracking. I can’t wait around all week for you bunch to start hacking at each other with rubber ducks.

Did I mention how global warming sucks? I even saw a t-shirt which said “Al Gore didn’t invent the internet, but he DID invent global warming”. I mean, who believes that stuff anyway? Tree huggers and hippies? Probably because they think they’ll have to take a bath one of these days if it gets any warmer. I’m selfish. My kids can ask away about why we didn’t do anything to stop it. Hell, they could have carrot red skin. Who cares? It’ll be fun to watch the little buggers being chased around by bulls.

Anyone wanna take up the bait?

P.S. – I need somebody else to keep referencing in my posts instead of Gehan, as it seems I call upon him for every other post. I need to diversify. Any candidates for that too?

*Names may or may not include ‘Papare’ and ‘Hish’.



Delilah and that runt Fallen have been discussing my ‘sweetness’ for some time now. I think it now deserves it’s own topic, like #jerryssweetness or something. Now I have definite proof that under this hard, oh-so-manly and stare at me wrong and you die exterior, I am ‘sweet’. In a good way.

Rats eat through my clothes in the night. I carelessly leave a few items lying around the room and some vile creature turns it into a gourmet dinner. I’m left with clothing best described as “well ventilated”. I will need help in capturing this thing. The THING probably knows it. Don’t you? Heck, you’re probably on first name basis with em. I will need a mousetrap. A RAT trap. Nay! A bear trap, to capture the creature which had the gall to eat MY clothing! It must be massive. No other being would dare irk me.

Yes, that must be it. A giant bear-rat that’s been ravaging the townspeople.


So, OM 2

Yeah, I’m making a second post. No reason, just to uh… clarify?

So there I sit, leaning against the wall, listening to some more poetry. Load up twitter. Eventually receive previously mentioned “BERRY!” text. Dread. Look around a bit, scanning the crowd. Can’t look at many faces for fear of some enraged harpy staring daggers at me.

See Gollum next to me, in a green shirt. He takes out phone. Nokia. The phone of choice for the dark forces. Forward Berry message to him, adding “Somewhere in this room is the person who sent me that message. She has the ring”. He looks around, drools. Fails. Never was much good at anything, that useless little $#&#^%!@#…

End of OM, walk over to whack. I’m wearing a _blue_ shirt. See him beckon, blah blah blah, DeeCee hobbles over, wearing many rings on fingers. Gollum goes crazy, starts tugging at her fingers, DC and Gollum locked in combat over toy ring gotten out of cereal box. Whack starts selling tickets to fight.

Dee kicks Gollum in the family jewels, escapes with horrendous looking scar on arm. Runs over St. Fallen in desperate getaway in car.

And THAT, my friends, is the true story of how your grandma met the president.


Dinner and of Stalling In The Act Of Deciding Where To Go After-Syndrome

Went for this kottu party thing a friend told me about yesterday. Met a hellava lot of people, half of who I can’t really remember.

A bunch of old friends and some new people.

Findings :

  • Dinidu De Alwis is schizophrenic. Do not believe his blog. Hell, I never read past more than four lines on his posts, afraid of getting lost in all the government this-government that. It was like that last level in a game that you’re just not sure you can play yet. The dude is insane. In a fun, good way.
  • I can keep talking about nothing in particular for a long time. Without any external stimulants. Unless kottu counts.

The minute I show up I see papareboy and who appeared to be his brother. I am later told that this other person was Mr. Alwis. I prepare myself for a night of listening to a constant newsreel like commentary on who was screwing(figuratively) whom in power/government/religion.

Well it was different. Again. First DC and now this guy. Even pavithri wasn’t doling out hugs, contrary to her tweetings and much to everyone’s chagrin. She called me mean. As if I could ever be anything less than gentlemanly. The only minor offenses I committed were asking The Puppeteer whether she wasn’t supposed to be in a kitchen somewhere and splashing water on a certain curly haired, sexually confused journalist.

It was a fun night.

Now, about SITAODWTG syndrome. We experienced this firsthand yesterday. Actually, we created it firsthand. The first hand coming from one of us who finally got around to saying ‘This is getting boring now, let’s move on to somewhere else”. Then a slew of other hands came in and stirred it up, mixing and kneading the question of “Wher to go?” into “So yeah, I’m fine with anything. You tell us.”. And so everyone was fine with anyplace, except the place we were already in. That’s not to say anybody could’ve just suggested a location and everyone would have agreed. Not so simple. It has to be a place that’s interesting enough. We SAY we’re willing, but we just want someone to magically read our minds and gauge our mood for a suitable location.

We were undecided for a few hours.

EDIT : Retitled due to gehan thinking it was a meetup of everyone on, and not the actual… food. Yes, laugh at him, people.


Open Mic

Went for last Thursday’s Open Mic. After a lot of hullabaloo about the war, celebrations for ending of said war and some other stuff about st. fallen’s suicidal tendencies being brought out through a ‘poem’ about glasses full and half full of poison, I recieved a text.

A strange text. From a strange number.

A text with a single word in it.

A word that made me jump. A word that took me by the scruf of the neck, pushed me against the wall and said, ‘I’m female’.


I look around the room. A sea of faces in an ocean of… attentiveness? I’m not too sure. What with getting linked on the great RD’s blog, I feel like I’m expected to come up with ‘sophisticated’ one liners and put downs every other line. It’s quite taxing. Almost drains you of anything funny you had to start with.

Since Delilah seems to be the most frequent offender for usage of that word, I wonder if she’s around. Log onto twitter. See if anybody is on who’s been mobile tweeting. Nothing of interest. Strange. Nothing much of interest after that till-

After it was over, Mr Whackster beckons to someone in a manner saying ‘Come aney, he’s not going to bite you’. Somebody comes. Somebody is introduced as Delilah. I go D: . Then somebody else grins, not Delilah. DeeCee! And er… I’m sorry, I can’t live up to your ‘Be all sarcastic and make me look all…’. I just can’t. There’s nothing to write. A few seconds of exposure just doesn’t give me enough to go on, especially when you’re about as interactive as a wall, and not a revolving, hidden door-sy wall. Suffice to say, she was… different.

After that and after a brief ride in the whackmobile, I was off home. All in all it was pretty good. Fallen says it was the best we ever had. I’ll take his word for it.

Speaking of ‘Best I ever Had’, I finally heard Gehan singing. Yes, just yesterday. And… he was pretty good.

There. A coompliment. A real compliment.

See? Miracles _do_ happen :P


Of Stereotypes

This line,

Dark skin. Prime suspect, if previous bombers are to be considered.

This got a bunch of people yelling “RACIST! RACIST!” at me. That was one of those lines that you write while thinking “This is one of those lines that’ll be taken in the wrong way by some people.” But you still post it. Because you stand by it. Me saying that is not racism. Me saying that is merely an educated guess on what skin colour a potential suicide bomber would have. It’s just a feature.

Now even I don’t think every dark skinned or tamil person is a bomber. But look at it in the context of the post, and you will see that its just… well… me noticing things. Just like the pregnant woman thing. Not all pregnant women are bombers are they? I play up the paranoia in the post, and what better skin colour than dark to use? If we were in america, I would’ve used an islamic man.

The people who get offended at that line are probably the same ones who have “Embrace Diversity” plastered all over their workplaces.

I’m off to write the next post. All ya haters can bite my ass


The War’s Supposed To Be Over?

So there I was in the bus again, heading to work. Sit down in the seat opposite the door, flick out phone and start looking through Twitter. After a while the woman next to me, in the aisle seat, get up and is replaced by a pregnant lady. What with all the flags and things, I couldn’t help thinking about bombers. Specifically, a pregnant woman who went boom at the army hospital. Now I know they’re all dead and surrendered up north, but did anyone tell the tigers down in Colombo about that?

*shifty eyes*

So I try to look at her through the corner of my eye. Dark skin. Prime suspect, if previous bombers are to be considered. Though one can’t be sure, as there’s not much skin left to go by after a bomb, and those who were close enough to notice aren’t really in a position to comment. Deciding that I didn’t want people adding a ‘Bless his soul’ after mentioning my name just yet, I turn ever so slightly.

To check out her chest.

Now, this is no easy task even when many meters away, and is almost impossible when you’re right next to a person. There was also the chance of her getting so pissed off she’d blow me to bits just for that. Were suicide bombers taught enough discipline and restraint to wait for the proper target(s) even in the face of perverts?

Catch a microsecond long glimpse.

Doesn’t _seem_ to be wearing anything looking vaguely like a vest. Try to take another look and see that there are three women standing right next to her. They look angry. Thoughts running through my head wondering whether they saw me trying to sneak a look. After a minute or so of sweating it out while staring straight out the window, I start thinking ‘God. I’ve been relatively good to you, never killed anybody or anything like that, don’t let me dieeee… I have plans! Things to do! You ca-‘

Was it just me or was my walkman’s volume a few notches higher now? I listen to the words. “If you were dead or still alive, I don’t care, I don’t careeeeee!”

Mortified. Damn Adam Gontiere and his stupid song. Damn him to hell.

Just to make sure, he adds “I swearrrr!”

After much shaking of hands and plans of mad dashes to the door, I feel a stare burning into the back of my neck. Turn around to see the pregnant woman gone, and replaced by one of the three witches. She was staring at the back of my head.

Oh well, strange, offended woman is better than strange, about to blow up woman. Offended women can be ignored. A bloody big bomb can’t be. All’s well, God exists, and he likes to scare people.


And then the sun shone through…

I’m sorry, that’s about all the dramatic-ity I can muster. The rest of my meager reserve was spent on walking up to an abandoned street stall in Borella and asking the old man there(See? Old man. Old. That has to be at least a little dramatic, right?) for a flag. Ever opportunistic, they still overcharged for it. Either way, there’s none left to expend on my already shaky writing.

It’s like living in a weird-everydays-christmas like place right now. At the moment I’m getting more or less the entirety of the president’s speech texted to me by the Daily Mirror news service. Firecrackers going off sporadically. People on the streets. I have to stay cooped up in here. I wanna go wave a few flags, dammit! I have the right to wrestle with some old lady for a prime spot by the pavement to grin at passing vehicles!

I will arm myself with a keyboard instead.


It just. Doesn’t. Feel. The. Same.

The fighting’s all over. People keep asking what we’re going to talk about now. As if there isn’t enough to talk about now that people have stopped getting their legs whipped out from under them by a mean man named claymore. What do you think people in other countries talk about? India didn’t get that highly populated without a few solid conversation starters. And I doubt men in China went about with a Tiananmen square pickup line.

Go back to the default topics. These are for males. Slightly alter and you get females.

  • Small children – Toys/starring in America’s Funniest Home Videos
  • Teenagers – Females
  • Young men – Work/Females
  • Middle age – Family/Work/Starring in America’s Funniest Home Videos
  • Seniors – Females

For women, just replace “females” with “shoes”.

I mean, I can’t remember the last time I talked about the war. Save for the getting flag bit, it never came up in conversation for at least a few weeks.

WOOO!!!! Tomorrow is a national holiday!

I have to go rejoice! Will finish this post later. I hope.


Good Monday Everyone. Smileys.

It’s another Monday. Eurch.

I like smileys. Not that I go overboard with them or anything. ;) ;) :P

But one smiley which I regard with utter contempt is… is… it is one which mocks you, confuses you and makes you question yourself over and over again.


That blasted thing. What is it doing? Grinning widely, but also winking. Try doing that with your face. Now try to not look like a retard. You are told that the user of this smiley is grinning, but then when you see the wink, you wonder if that really is the case. For all we know, they might be winking just to tell us “You’re not funny, but I’m grinning anyway just to stop from being uncomfortable”. Or even “Haha, I’m laughing AT you, not WITH you, fool”. A mischievous grin? is that it? But would ;) not suffice?

Bah, I don’t care.



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