Category Archives: Funny

Comments

A couple of bloggers I follow have been mentioning the loss of comments to their posts, and the accidental spam-foldering of legit comments.  I checked my spam folder to see if I was losing comments to it, and found the following:

Someone whose handle is “single” says the following in response to my post reproducing Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry on Independence day.

“It іs in reality a nice and helpful piece of info. I am happy that you shared this һelpful information with us.
Please кeep us informed ⅼiҝe this. Thank you for ѕharing.”

Thank you.  I will surely keep you inform c d like this.

A certain la2enjoy finds my post on a Hindu festival without power so:

Thankfulness to my father who informed me concerning this website, this weblog is genuinely remarkable.

My thankfulness also to their father who informed them concerning this genuinely remarkable weblog.

A post describing an embarrassing conversation about uterus with a friend garnered the following support from SpencerTup

In the initial few minutes together with eastern offers, you see, the smacking progressive thriller originally from donald Cronenberg, A tonsils is in fact chopped, a trustworthy womb hemorrhges, And a baby, Slimy and also palpitating, out in womb of their gone afflicted mother. they don’t that comes because a shock to anyone from producer of previous physical violence in order to certainly nothing your day brood and can then be something rather scary will happen. in to Tatiana, works a voice out of more specific serious, the very language phrase deep which has a ruskies accent, been vocal with distinguished pigments concerning… the voiceover? at a Cronenberg video? it’s almost as astonishing given that exploding head off in scanners.

“customarily i personally don’t like voiceover, towards the it’s around the shopping in, Cronenberg details along the Regency or resort in san francisco, location we each mention prior to the western states premi inside the higher toronto world presentation pageant. “it something’s no longer working correct, Like you might need a epic saga to spell out film production company. But web page,in this situation, The work of fiction will be inside these movie,

generally “global” at the heart associated with Cronenberg’s report truly a record put aside by an adolescent euro daughter referred to as Tatiana, which often dead becoming pregnant interior a paris, france medical center. carried through due to Cronenbealong with his inimitable importance together with fashion, the main present revealed his or her desired director truthfully had to do appear our?

an easy thriller (in its sprained manner for you), japanese pledges responds my undertaking attained by a history of physical violence at a good deal more within reach storytelling. what actually transpired that can these kinds rumored jobs as movie industry information about operation fine art terrorists, also known as the avant garde surgical treatment thriller? Cronenberg’s appeal, your lover, are generally transferring. “i purchase presented such things as that on a daily basis. simply I made it happen 30 years ago. i’d rather not bore on my own, because if I bore personally, i will be painful, whether he views the brand new deliver the results any sort of travel: “actually a intentional outcome. i don’t, In a major strategie as well as systematic, evaluate the arc associated this show good results. because i’m also perfecting a program and a film, it’s mainly pure intuition even so a knowledgeable. can one push something with it which has cost-effective? will it be enjoyable to me? some can be a challenges,

so what exactly did which is why he give southern hype? “you know me,

clearly, firstly, a piece of why is Cronenberg kind unswervingly helpful filmmaker is the place consistent he can. people a blank canvas too hard at first glance of far eastern assures a film as hooked on changes with weed for the reason that take a flight, in the form of interested in the splintered mind and body for the Videodrome known to help you obsessions spill launched. compared to the scrupulously fairly neutral mindscapes as to eXistenZ because,since crash and burn, The expat russian underwalternativelyld of eastern pledges if very sure and less resonant approach hallucinated london of spider nude your head Lunch’s Tangiers of.

“to stay wide-spread, Cronenberg counter tops, “you need to be specific. You sincerely hope are going to be abstractions exactly who speak out loud off those things that you’ve done, providing the joy of eastern side assures, he tells, “was not much diverse from entering the Peking ie for many M Butterfly. repeatedly, we’re managing kind of funnily hermetically covered subculture that possesses his own simple rules and so judgement standards. and then for me, you will want to understand, gain access to Midwestern the united states for a medical history of physical violence was as simple as creating this is what ruskies subculture. it’s just that for you to men and women, the first is hidden and another is exotic. it’s the same much akin to perception,

“what normally jake develops it truly is his style having to do with euro expatriates, tallys hype leading man Viggo Mortensen. belonging to the identity pointing to Nikolai, each classy terraces, Morally sacrificed mob factotum (not to mention, usually, Something alot more), Cronenberg’s found muse refines usually the email and social clashes he embodied in physical violence and eager thus. “I been for a while travelling to paris online. there’s a bunch of emphasis on verbal and the style european jargon which had been worthwhile to educate yourself regarding. I monitored the actual individuals choose to spell it out something, a glance at me and my friends or cold these were referring as, to see thought i would reveal and that they showed your idea. and therefore those attention to factor and workings to our characterizations provides well-balanced by having s] own fantasy earth,

“Reality is done, Cronenberg concurs. “because of this popular feelings, the ways associated with body language and as well as nose area ear drums show results, we’ve found troubles performing prospect on world wide we presume is now real. doable real that will dog.

Say what?

My refurbished living room impressed acupuntura curitiba batel thusly

excelente pontos completamente, você só ganhou
um emblema novo leitor. O que poderia você sugerem em relação ao seu submeter
que você apenas fez alguns dias no passado?

Qualquer positivo ?

Google translates the above to

excellent points completely, you just won
a new player badge. What could you suggest regarding your submitting
What did you just do a few days in the past?
Any positive?

A1 positive.  Will that help?

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The Jinx

Alright, it’s official.  This blog has magical powers.  Godly magical powers.  Or someone among the 24 readers of this blog has magical powers. I rant about not being able to laugh-out-loud in this blog and within ten hours, I am suffocating (no exaggeration) because I can’t stop laughing , as are my my kid, my friend L and her daughter, as we sit around the table trying to eat Thai and Chinese food and having the rest of the diners shoot daggers at us for the ruckus we are creating.  There wasn’t even any uterus talk involved !  Either the people at Flower Drum spiked all deserts (“kachang”, there I said that again) with alihotsy, illywig wings, Knarl quills and the like, or our pons were infarcted because that is when things got out of control and the four of us made noises that would scare the hyenas away.

IMG_0636

Ice Kachang spiked with laughing portion

There was one particular woman across from me, who was dining with a gentleman, perhaps husband.  She shot a wistful glance at us every now and then. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. I could not stop laughing long enough to walk up to her, pat her on her shoulder and say, write your yearning in your blog, it will change.

My stomach is bunched , my voice is hoarse, my throat is sore and head, light.

Thank you magical blog.  Thank you magical reader.  Most of all, thank you L for the laughs you gave me today.

 

 

Work out

I have been going to the gym for the past month and a half.  I don’t have a personal trainer or a schedule, but do a bit of interval training and some strength, with inputs from the gym trainers.  Lately the trainers have been goading me to check out their Zumba sessions, which come free with the membership.  I wasn’t too keen for a variety of reasons, the foremost being, I am the most inelegant woman you could know.  Secondly, the sessions are at six in the evening, and the traffic at that time is a killer. In any case, I buckled under and decided to check it out today.

I enter the gym and the receptionist tells me to go to the second floor for the session.  I walk two flight of stairs, which I count towards warm up, and peep into the room that seems occupied.  There is a friendly-like trainer and five trainees – two women and three rather muscular men.  Do men do Zumba?  I chide myself for being sexist and join them for stay-jogs, butt kicks and such like for eternity.  Finally we stop and I catch the breath that had gone for a stroll.

“Now we begin the session” our trainer guy says.

Say what?

The music starts.  Ah, Zumba, finally.

“A cycle of training consists of ten push ups, ten crunches and fifteen squats.  Three continuous cycles, followed by a one minute break, to be repeated for 20 minutes.”

Again, what?

One of the three women left for the zumbha in the opposite room.  This was crossfit training.  Some people have an ego the size of Kilimanjaro to follow the third girl across the hall.

If I don’t write tomorrow, it is probably because my arms fell off.

 

An immenses conversation

On the way back from the beach yesterday.  Two moms on the front seat, two teenage kids at the back.

Kids singing some random song, completely out of tune and loud.

Mom1:  Can you please tone it down a little?  Mom 2 and I are trying to have a conversation.

Kids’ ears flap.  Moms’ conversation, they are sure, would be something they can crib about later.  E.g. “moms don’t know how to have fun, you know?”. “Moms are so jealous of anyone who has fun, that they have to get on our case if we laugh ” . (Actual quotes we have overheard in the past few days).

Mom 2:  I haven’t gotten my periods in three months now. I wonder if I have menopaused.

Mom1:  Lucky you.   You can set the calendar by me.

Mom 2:  I wonder if I am really that lucky.  Maybe when it comes, it will finally kill me.

Mom 1: More likely.  At least, when you are dead, you won’t get periods anymore.

Mom 2:  I am not sure.  My ghost will probably get PMS.

Kid 1: May be we are better off singing.

Mom 2:  Don’t behave like you guys don’t know what we are talking about.  Especially considering how crabby you guys get before your period.

Mom 1:  You know how they throw parties and have celebrations for menarche*?  We must have a celebration for menopause you know..makes more sense.

Mom 2: What do you mean we must have a celebration for menopause?  We must have a kick-ass party.  You know, invite all menopausal/perimenopausal women, have a big feast, dancing, singing, new clothes, drinking..the works.

Mom 1:  And banners.  “Take that, uterus”.

Mom 2: “Die, ovaries”

Mom 1:  “Hormones to hell”

Mom 2:  “Vale, vaginal vagaries”

Mom 1:  “Cheerio Cramps”

Kid 2:  You know how moms think we are crazy?…

Mom 2:  And we can have a cake shaped like uterus.

Mom 1: With red icing

Mom 2:  And not cut it, but each of us gets a knife and stabs it

The kids are stunned to silence until we reach home.

Later in the night, mom 1 gets a message from mom2: “Got my P :(”

Mom 1:  What?  No party then?

Mom 2:  More time to plan.

What can I say?  We are glass-half-full people.

* In India, a girl’s menarche is traditionally celebrated on a grand scale – feasting and all.  It still is among many families.

Edited to add:  A dear cousin wrote back saying “why so much hatred for the uterus?  Without it, you two would not have had your kids”.  I feel partly combative, but also bad.  Thirty odd years of pain and PMS shebang (the other mom in this conversation faints every period with pain, and I go through dark mental periods every month) seems like a steep price to pay for reproduction, considering that the other half of the procreationist gets away scott free.  That said, I’d face any pain all over again, and again, and all my life, for my kid. If I have inadvertently hurt anyone by this post, I am sorry. I considered deleting this post, but realised that that would be escapist.  I own these thoughts. They may be wrong, but they are mine.

 

 

All that’s white ain’t milk

My father was apparently a sickly child, prone to fevers.  Every time he was delirious, his mother would mix hot, sweetened milk with carbonated water (aka club soda, sparkling water, seltzer, fizzy water) and make him drink it, and as lore would have it, the fever would disappear.  I was thankfully a healthy child, and even the few times that I did end up with fever, my mother had enough sense to not let my dad treat it.

In grad school, my neighbour in the run-down grad-student housing was a North Indian grad student, whose name I have forgotten.  I once dropped into his house to pick up some candles (there was going to be a blizzard that night and the power always fluctuated during blizzards), and he offered me a drink. Since it was non alcoholic, I accepted it with thanks.  The drink was cold coca cola mixed with cold Vit D milk.  I actually liked it  (I like anything with milk) and continued to have it for two years of my life.  Two decades since, I have forgotten the taste of it,  and don’t intend to remind myself of it – do you know coke really cleans your toilet bowl to a shine?  With a pH of 2.53, why wouldn’t it?

Again, in Grad school, in an attempt to put on weight (I was uncharitably addressed as “2D LG” by the juvenile Indian grad students that my university was infested with at that time), I tried the eggy-milky-occasionally rummy drink of egg nog and was hooked.  The egg nog of my grad school days still stays with me, especially around my hip area and refuses to budge, aided by the tubs of rum-n-raisin ice creams of yore.

I have had Irish coffee back in grad school, but had not particularly liked it.

Life in the US killed my relationship to lactose – I suspect it was because grocery store milk in US was reconstituted, and never natural (this was before the “organic” tag gained respectability or was affordable to a grad student).  I became severely lactose intolerant and stayed off all forms of milk products for many years afterwards. Only recently, after 20 years of de-americanising my stomach and re-setting it with what passes off as milk in India, has my tolerance to lactose and diary returned.

My forays into alcohol began only after marriage, but lest you think of me as an alcoholic needing intervention, my frequency of having any form of alcoholic beverage has been once or twice a year.  The last time I had wine was in Italy, last summer, and it was divine and very feebly alcoholic, except for one occasion that made me giggle uncontrollably.  The summer before that, my sister-in-law had brought us vodka and Scotch, both of which I hated because less than a sip made me throw up and gave me a phenomenal migraine for hours afterwards.

Yesterday, I met my BFF over coffee.  The precious woman got me Bailey’s Irish cream and rum-chata, probably sick of my WhatsApp rants about how hard it is in India to get a decent bottle of alcohol that does not give me a migraine, at price that does not require sale of body parts.   After expert advice from Rob on how best to consume Irish cream,  last night, I tentatively sipped the iced milky beverage, almost sure that I was going to head to the sink to throw up.  Caramel, milk and whiskey?  What kind of combination is that?

A few many hours later, as my afternoon coffee with Rumchata fills my being and takes me to almost orgasmic ecstacy as I type this out, I can only be grateful that we don’t get Bailey’s Irish cream or rumchata in India.  I’d probably need an AA membership if we did.

 

Stop that infernal chewing

I have a fair share of personality quirks.  I have to change into fresh underwear before I go to bed at night.  I have “my spot” on the couch for work.    If I haven’t eaten curd rice for three days in a row, I get cranky.  I am the quintessential wall flower in gatherings.

There is one quirk of mine that I thought is completely crazy.  I can’t stand the sound of people chewing.  Unfortunately, my car pool kids are noisy chewers.  Whenever I make the mistake of bringing them a snack, I kick myself because their sounds of chewing make me want to drive the car into oncoming traffic. It takes all my willpower to not yell at the kids, because, hell they are not my kids.  On the rare occasion that my kid forgets I am in the room, and chews loudly, she gets hit by a tsunami.  Some of my relatives chew loudly.  I avoid going to family functions that involve eating because I feel like sticking my fingers into my eyes when I sit next to them at the meal table.  I believe that if I get a complete nervous breakdown in life, this would be the trigger. Just writing about the chewing sound is making me want to assume foetal position and scream.

I thought I was crazy. I AM crazy, but this is not the reason, because

drum rolls please…

MISOPHONIA is an established condition, it seems, and scientists even know what causes it !

I am thrilled by this news.  Now see, THAT’s what makes me crazy.

Say what?

I have been reading a book on art (as a favour for someone).

“According to Schelling, art is the product or consequence of a world view in which the subject becomes its own object, or the object itself its own subject. ”

And the book is full of such gems.  FULL.   Another example:

“art may be called play, though not in the sense of a worthless occupation, but in the sense of a manifestation of the beauty of life itself, which has no other aim than beauty.”

Say WHAT?