Archive for August, 2009


Pageviews are down, so here’s a post.

I log in today to see eight people have looked at my blog. Eight.

Watched and played in Jerk, the Forum Theater thing last Saturday. I think fallen has ADHD. Hyperactivity, shunned by peers and then slit wrists is more or less equal to hyperactivepoetrywriting, shunned by queers and then slit wrists.

Forum theater is seriously fun. I highly recommend you attend next time it pops up, at least for the entertainment value. A whole bunch of people showed up. All to see the whackster playing the ADHD kid’s mother. We were allowed, nay, encouraged, to go up on stage and amend roles of various people so that the play’s final outcome would be different from the first run, in which the ADHD kid slit his wrists. The second run, the one during which the audience intervened, they didn’t play out the last scene. Great, we’re lead to believe we led the kid to a fate worse than death.

I was also beguiled into thinking someone who was someone I thought was someone¬† was someone else. Someone won’t get away with it next time.

The rest of the day involved me sucking at pool, Sabby and Dinidu admiring male posteriors, then Star Trek.

Star Trek was good. Didn’t live up to all the hype but it was good. Not worth a second watch though. The technology was what you get when you watch sci-fi from the 70’s.¬† They’d have teleportation but no email. Well not literally, but fighting hand to hand, or using swords is like us fighting wars with clubs and muskets. They also chose Harold from Harold and Kumar as a pilot. Sylar was also there but people kept calling him Spock.

The most riveting scene was when Sylar went in front of the Vulcan Science Academy and turned down their offer. He tearfully said “One day, I’m gonna be a star!” and skipped off. The movie also showed that In The Future There Will Be No Asians. Or at least that There Will Be Fewer Asians. If a Russian who sounds like he just stepped off the boat, or whatever equivalent future immigrants use(stepped off the ice perhaps?), can get into the US military, practically anybody could.

Captain Kirk was in attendance with his medical officer friend who I remember seeing somewhere on TV but can’t exactly place. He did a lot of running around and getting beaten up. He also used a parachute. What a looser. Go read some Asimov fool, you’re got better options at your disposal.

We went to Eatmore again. That place should pay us for bringing so many people in each week or something.

In other news, thewhackster has finally switched to wordpress, Fallen is going to close down his blog or something equally trivial and I have a scratchy throat today.




Contrary to the first thing your perverted mind jumps to, no, don’t “jerk”. Yes, that means you too, fallen, keep your hands where we can see em.

Apparently BB is doing an FT performance at the PT on the 29th Aug. 2k9. OMGWTFBBQ.

For normal people who didn’t waste away in drama class in school, that’s a Forum Theater performance. Whacko says you can stop, redirect and rewind the play and stuff. Or something. I think it’s kind of like TiVo.

It’s supposed to enlighten people about ADHD, a subject rarely discussed in Sri Lanka. Come, be enlightened, enlighten others, drug your kid!

Bonus offer : First 10 people to request an invite from 0777 335 320, 0777 491 718 or get an autographed piece of paper from me! How exciting!

For more info,



Last Friday was failFriday. A series of unfortunate exclamations, if you must. Meet failboy, vileness and fallen at the Thummulla Barista. Fallen read some failpoetry to us which we completely ignore, preferring to discuss the baffling mysteries of why the outdoor seating things were made of wood. Baffled, we were. A ride from TMS later we were again at Eatmore restaurant. More fried rice was consumed as whacko had failpoetry spoken at him by fallen. Many heavy subjects were discussed, none of which were featured in the poem.

Later, we decided to go to the beach, since we were all broke and the beach was free. We also secretly planned to sell fallen to hairy old German tourists hanging around the beach but that didn’t quite go according to plan. And then this happened-

Scene: Last Friday, on a Moratuwa bus on the way to Mt. Lavinia.

Stfallen: Yeah Vin Diesel movies usually suck…

Whacko : Yeah there was that racing movie thing… what was it called? Ah Need for Speed!

After we convinced fallen not to tweet every single thing that happened, we got to Mount. Then whacko pointed out that there was a gaming cafe right there. We weighed our options. The beach. Free, sand and… well… nothing much else. Selling fallen would be difficult in this stretch. Games, well, that sounded much more fun. And we had just enough, counting all the ten rupee notes in our wallets, for an hour. We settled into playing when the greatest fail of the night happened.

Scene : At Venus gaming cafe at Mt. Lavinia. Fallen, whacko, failboy and myself are playing Call of Duty.

failboy : Dude I’m getting the hang of this!

whacko : *kills fallen*

fb : Dude! That was cool! This looks cool man…

me : *kills whacko*

fb : Dude I killed him! Haha!

me : Err… no, dude, I killed him.

fb : But it said “You killed Whacko” on my screen, and I’m getting pretty good at this now, I can kill you too you know!

whacko : *looks at fb’s screen* wtf? Dude, you’re spectating through Jerry’s player!

me : *look at scoreboard*

all : *Break out in laughter as we discover fb had been spectating all this time*

all : *point and laugh at failboy’s EPIC FAIL.

After that, failboy was too embarrassed to do anything so he just quit and created a Counter Strike server called “papareboy’s mom”. On which he again got killed repeatedly. Later was Need for Speed. Failboy fell back by a few thousand light years in the first lap itself so he decided to go the other way, intending to impede us by crashing into us. He didn’t. Not a single hit. Missed by miles, on roads only three meters wide. He learned the basic lesson that it is extremely hard to crash into someone head-on when your combined speeds are in the hundreds of miles per hour. Thankfully he didn’t try to go backwards in the Sprint tracks.

After we all thanked failboy for the entertainment, we all set off home. People, if any PC game thing comes up, just take papareboy. The opposing team will be too busy rolling on the floor laughing their limbs off to notice you killing them.


Harry Potter and stuff.

Saw this article on –

Go read. Be appalled. Gain more ammo to throw at emos(stfallen), idiots(papareboy you) and misled 13 year old girls(stfallen). For example, the bit about the 200-woman conference at the Harry Potter Symposium(Since I’m known universally as a champion of women’s rights) discussing non-consensual sex between Hermione and Snape . Like they mention somewhere, what if it were men doing it? It would be raining (police)men. Take the man making parallels between the holocaust and Harry Potter. Doesn’t he sound stupid enough to be that guy you saw cheering for Cuba in the Ashes match the other day?

The world is baffling.

Like for example why people persist in leaving their saved passwords in their browsers. Then going to sleep. While I’m right next to said PC. Baffling how easy it is to just make a post on someone else’s blog that way. You should try it. Claim that someone so emo he could cut himself with Occam’s razor likes Miley Cyrus and hilarity ensues. Sometimes -_- ensues.

In other news,

I have shaved off my supposedly ayya-look beard because it felt like I had a fuzzy sock attached to my face all the time. People looked at me as if I had two fuzzy socks on my face. Mismatched ones. I have no idea how papareboy manages with that journalist-esque beard and Medusa hair. Actually, I have no idea how papareboy is still alive with snakes for hair. As far as I know the diet of snakes include Samuel L Jackson and the nipples of some random woman on a plane. So maybe he’s safe after all.

Anyway, nothing to write on these days, as you might have noticed. Ciao.


Rushing a post

When you rush a post, you get that last post of mine. I mean, look at it. It looks like something Gehan would write. A rushed post is rarely a readable post. It just sits there and looks at you like a hurt puppy. Except only the author feels any sympathy for it. Everyone else just looks at it and scoffs, much like they do to fallen.

Posts about meeting up, especially, get a little weird when writing. You have all these stories buzzing around in your head like a bunch of hornets stuck in someone’s underwear. Trying to put them in writing is like reaching in and plucking them out one by one without getting stung. Now imagine you’ve just run a marathon. Trying to pluck out the hornets now is equivalent to writing a good post.

All this real friends stuff messes it up even more. We all hang out, do stuff together, text, call and just generally live just like regular people, but we’re still just “online friends”. An elite few of us have “real friends” apparently. I mean, how did that happen? Real live people that they met in real life? Unsilent was so preposterous as to say he knew actual girls in real life. Not just men with boobs. Do you keep the fact that you have a blog secret from them? Won’t they stone you to death with ripe figs if you mention tweeting from your mobile?

So you’re confused as to whether there’s really any use to posting about it. They’re your friends, so why do you wanna post about it? Then again they’re all online, so why not post about it, then comment on each others’ posts and laugh over it again. It all makes very little sense.

Almost like a female.


Weekend Wars

I am now nursing two cut wounds and a sprained toe. How did I get to be in this state? I shall explain.

Yesterday we went over to the beach. It was overcast and a hint of drizzle was present. The ball would be less visible and possibly slippery. So we christened it “great weather for some tap”. Males.

While we were sitting at a table enjoying making mom jokes at papareboy’s tremendous expense, two boys aged around 12 or 13 showed up and asked us to come play a game of tap with them. Thought process –

  1. They were small, and easily beat.
  2. But that wouldn’t reflect too well on us.
  3. Maybe we could send a few from our side to theirs.
  4. Then again only fallen, chinch and me knew how to play, and only I had actually played rugger before.
  5. Meh, let’s go see what happens. If it all goes to hell at least we can dump papareboy in the sea.

So we went. Giblet was put aside as the opposing team had their own ball. It was worn. Signs of frequent use. We should have paid heed. Then the rest of their team steps up and it looked like half the line players from a first fifteen team had stepped out. Hopes were dashed to the ground. The ground was of sand so we had to trample to hopes as well.

While giblet was busy cuddling up to Hijinx, and sabby was being all posh and lounging on a chair sipping mango juice, the game started.

After a few tries, whacko and realskullzero showed up and replaced papareboy and fallen. We managed to slow the rate of scoring to about one try every five minutes after that. After much cussing under our breaths and challenging them to a game of blogging(seeing who gets the most hits on a post), we finally escaped from the game.

And dumped papareboy in the ocean.

Saturday was filled with hotdogs I didn’t get to eat, mediocre gigantic muffins and Eatmore restaurant. We also went to lanny’s afterwords, because we like to travel to places far from home and goof off. Monsters vs Aliens was in there somewhere too, but I’d watched it earlier so it wasn’t that exciting. The only exciting bit was @stfallen being alone. In a movie theater full of people.

We never did try the Brain Masala.

Friday was pool night. We went, we saw, we managed to pool enough together to play. This was also the day we discovered the Eatmore restaurant. Near the Palace Hotel or something in bambalapitiya junction. It’s about twenty meters from the mosque.

They have nice fried rice and chapattis with chicken inside.

Back to pool, my beginner’s luck had run out and it was fallen’s turn to excel at handling sticks. We also played foosball, using which we deduced that papareboy was the worst indoor game player of the lot.

This post is sounding strange when read back, so I shall stop here and leave you vultures to ignore it.

See ya at the next post.


The Morning Mail

I trudge into work. My inbox awaits me. It is not empty. Read through, then switch to my rarely used hotmail account. A friend seems to have used some site which has sent me a recommendation. I never get sites that get you to recommend them to others before you’ve used them.


I humour this noobish friend *cough*sabby*cough* and see what the site is about. Apparently you get to “Know if you are important to a contact”. Egad, computers have finally progressed enough to gauge people’s feelings about each other. Or maybe I’m getting too excited. Maybe it just sends out “You received this because you are important to me. Send this to 3,000,000 people who are important to you, including me, if you consider me on that list. <3” to all your contacts.

This method is sure to get replies, and not just from the likes of those who worship Miley Cyrus, i.e. 13-year old girls and fallen. Definitely not.

Further, the site promises to “Delete from your MSN the contacts that doesn’t want to talk to you”. I wish people on my contact list used that. A lot. Especiall-


What is this little pop-up on the side of my screen? Looks just like the MSN messenger pop-ups. Hurm.

A young lady has been photographed in the nude, with just her hands covering her, um… lady parts. That is the picture. There is text next to it. Oh my, “I’m all by myself at home in COLOMBO”. There is a name in the title; “Angie”. But wait! The box disappears.

To be replaced by yet another notice! Apparently another scantily clad young lady by the name of “Helen from COLOMBO”, who seems to find an image of her posterior suitable for a dp, has sent me a message. While I was pondering over her use of old-style names, mentioning where she hails from and all, this box too, disappeared.

I curse myself for not taking prudent action and contacting these ladies to warn them of the dangers of letting strangers on the internet know they are alone at home. It’s full of perverts and papareboy. It also struck me as strange that there were so many young Caucasian ladies in Colombo. Within the space of about two minutes I had been notified of around six or seven respectable young women who had been left alone at home. We must utilize these bored souls and banish unemployment among these poor lonely ladies.

I was just about to click on one of the message boxes when I realized I wasn’t an internet noob and closed the window. Then I got back to doing something productive, like typing his post.