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  • May 22nd, 2008

    It comes more as a shock than surprise that what Jag envisaged, what we promised and what finally came of it is a shameful anomaly. And I have had my fair share too. I have had difficult times followed by abnormal drowsiness but that is no excuse. I opened the website with great hope but little belief that riggy has kept this blog going but I am certain he has had his fair share too. It says the last time anyone said anything was in July 2007, almost an year ago. And that too plagiarized. Now that I’ve got it off my chest and no longer guilt-ridden, I can move onto more funner things.

    I’d like to round up this post with a few updates and a non-negotiable promise to regularly write.

    • Till recently it had never occured to me, the phrase go forth and multiply had an ecclesiastical hidden reference that is no longer privy to the neo-proletariat christian. The Septuagint contained this reference. And so did the Deuteronomy. I don’t intend to directly hurt any christian sensibilities but the word is Arnevet. Yes Arnevet. I am unsure how the datamining capabilities of Able Danger (I tell you, only Americans can come up with such Hollywoodian names for their classified military intelligence programs) couldn’t figure it out but, well, they just didn’t. You know, all things American. Anyways, finally it took a rabbi to clarify it. Arnevets in Hebrew mean rabbits. So, hence the phrase, go forth and multiply like rabbits. The rabbit bit was scrapped off the New Covenant given the impending population explosion. Though, the phrase has made recent news with the Jews claiming, its not go forth and multiply like rabbits but go forth and multiply like rabbis.
    • You know, people always keep telling me I am parochial but I disagree. There has to be some profound explanation why Kerala is at the bottom most part of our nation. Do you know what is a Malayali’s most common lament? Don’t look down at us, Don’t look down at us. But, I tell them, I don’t want to but I have no choice. Keralites believe their state is God’s Own Country and quite conveniently God’s Own Children. Well, lets keep that in mind and leave that for the later. For the uninformed, and that includes me until recently, Onam is GOC’s harvest festival. That holds little relevance to what I found and it is quite startling. After a few days of research, I found this very interesting titbit on Onam: Quote unquote Judah said unto Onan*, Go in unto thy brother’s wife, and marry her, and raise up seed to thy brother. And Onan knew that the seed should not be his; and it came to pass, when he went in unto his brother’s wife, that he spilled it on the ground, lest that he should give seed to his brother. Indeed, Onam is the festival of harvesting seeds. * Onan is a deliberate misprint.
    • My wife and I recently found each other exercising our nethers together in a passion of conjugal bliss until I watched Richard Donner’s The Omen again. Its hard to believe the same guy made the Leathal Weapon series.
    • You know how kids are these days, don’t you? A nephew of mine, who is taller and hirsute than I, tells me he just did a BMW. Well, I was pleased to know that he bought a BMW until I met her. I dragged him to my side and said, what’s this? I mean, we all have called our trucks Pussy wagons in the past but this is a bit too much. Only later did I find out from Pongy that it means Be My Wife.  
       

       

    • And speaking of Pongy, she wants her visting card to read:

      Pongy (Name with held / changed for anonymity)



      Human Activist  Business for Pleasure. Pleasure for Business

      And, that is putting it mildly. So, at a recent family do, she seeks career counselling from me of all people. Of course, my sister is dead worried about her future. So, over dinner, I said, she should be a lawyer. And, everyone applauded. And Pongy frowned. Only later did she understand the subtle nuance. I told her, sometimes, when you mix business and pleasure, you get into trouble. And when your client gets into trouble, he will go ballistic saying “I wanna layher, I needa layher”.

    • I can tell you quite confidently Punjabis are a strange lot. Did you know the closest word translation for etcetera, yes I mean etcetera is Falana Dimkada. Yes, its true and I am not shittin’ you. The other night, my wife says something and adds falana dimkada to it. So, I asked her, what did you just say, falafal what language is that? So, she tells me its, f a l a n a d i m k a d a and I ask her what does it mean? She says, quite simply, etcetera. So, I ask her, why can’t you just say etcetera? And she says, but falana dimkada means etcetera and more. So, I say, but etcetera already means more. We never resolved the issue but I managed to learn a really really bad word in Punjabi.
    • Recently, my BIL asked me to come over for a drink. And, he fixes me a drink and he says, want to watch a flick? So, I say, yes. I am always game for flicks. And I ask, what’s the title? Says he, Best of Both Worlds. So, I say, is it new? Haven’t heard of it before. Well, my dad gave it to him, apparently and I know how this was going down. So, I say, what’s it about? He says, protandric hermaphroditic sex. I said, pro-what sex? He says, its about how these two people have male sexual organs while young and develop female sexual organs later in life. He is sick. My dad sicker.

    I am running out of time and space. I promise to write soon. May be on T20. Especially, RCB & DC.

    Au revoir…or I should say goodbye.

    July 19th, 2007

    Spotted this really cool line on a friend’s MSN status message. Apparently, he had heard it from his son!

     

    Never tell me the sky’s the limit when there are footprints on the moon!

     

    Sweet!

     

    July 16th, 2007

    A friend (who we shall call Angua*) of a friend (who we shall call Lara*) needed to close a bank account and wrote them a letter. Angua then sent Lara the letter for it to be proof-read. Lara almost suffered a coronary from laughing too much and did what any friend would do. Sent me the mail. I almost suffered a coronary reading it. Am putting it up here so that you all may suffer coronaries. Names and numbers are being changed in order to protect Angua’s true identity. I simply MUST find her before you lot, see……

    Read on and if you’re eating and drinking at this moment - STOP NOW.

    Ref Account Number: R1GG5-15-HOT
    Dear Sir/Madam,

    Please close this account with immediate effect. Any further charges that are liable for this account should be written off as I’ve already paid you more than enough of my hard earned cash for all the charges you consistently dream up to apply to an account that hasn’t been used for over a year.

    As you can see from my address I live overseas so it’s no good posting me a letter advising me that you are charging me for some other erroneous service in the vain hope that it will reach me in anything less than a fortnight.

    If there are any ‘problems’ with the simple matter of closing my account (which, knowing The Woolwich, they will be many and varied) please contact me on my mobile phone number xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (Ha!)* rather than sending me another missive by post because I’ll then be able to avoid any extra charges you will no doubt summon up for the time and effort it has taken to open this letter only to realise that you *gasp* can’t help me until I send it in triplicate, signed in blood and delivered by hand by an A- List Hollywood star.

    I’ve been informed numerous times that you ‘can’t’ converse with your customers via email at the Woolwich, (which must make you the only company on the planet for whom this is the case being as it’s 2007 and not 1927 – as an aside it’s good to see you championing the archaic ‘hard copy via postal service’, a much under-used form of communication here in the 21st Century – can’t think why everyone isn’t doing it, it’s so fast, non time consuming and convenient) but I’d like a confirmation, in writing, to one of my email addresses to confirm that the account mentioned above is, indeed, now closed.
    I’ll solve the ‘lack of email access’ problem for you and suggest you get someone in a position of authority to pop along to a local internet café and drop me a quick line (and no, I won’t pay for the internet café’s charge. I’m sure The Woolwich can just about manage to shoulder this cost). My email addresses are
    angua@hotmail.co.uk and angua@laingorourke.com .Take your pick.

    I’d like to point out at this juncture that I’ve spent over one hundred pounds sterling on the phone to your delightful Customer ‘Service’ staff over the last three months trying to get this account closed and the random, whimsical and ever increasing charges on my dormant account stopped once and for all. I wonder if you could assist me in claiming these costs back from The Woolwich? To this question I’m sure I can guess the answer because us mere mortals can no more plunder the money we are genuinely owed from the coffers of institutions such as The Woolwich than we can bounce to the Moon on a space-hopper made from cheese.

    Kind Regards,

    Angua.

    * for more on Angua - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angua

    * for more on Lara - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laura_croft

    * that Ha! was me.

    Right. More after I’m back from surgery. I’ve had to rewire my jaw from laughing too much.

     

    Rigged/-

    July 10th, 2007

    Something that I was sent on an sms forward. Cracked me up bigtime.

    2002 - Terrorism

    2003 - Floods

    2004 - Tsunami

    2005 - Earthquake

    2006 - Rain

    2007 - ‘Aap Ka Suroor’

    Himesh

    Still has me chuckling!!!

    July 7th, 2007

    I spent the last couple of hours this evening checking out Britain’s Got Talent on Youtube. After having watched Paul Potts a hundred or so times I decided to check out some of the other talent that Britain had.

    They had singers, dancers, dance troupes, baton twirlers, cheerleaders, stand up comedians and even Jack, a 79 year old tap dancer. Great stuff, that country has no dearth of entertainers.

    Then came the kids. Paul Potts was amazing yes, he was also my age and hence no spring chicken. Performances by Dominic, George, Jake and Connie not only made me feel very very old, they also made me wonder what the heck their parents fed them! I cannot imagine what any of these kids will be like when they’re 25. Dominic sings with a maturity and a talent way beyond his years, George is a thirteen year old street-dancer,Jake is a ten year old stand up comic and Connie is all of six. Yes, that is not a typo. 6 is what I said.

    Have a look.

    Dominic


     

    George


     

    Jake Pratt - (of whom said one presenter - ‘when I was told I was going to be sharing the stage with a little prat, I thought they were talking about someone else’….



     

    and lastly - this one completely bowls me over…. little Connie who is so talented that everyone else fades in comparison.



     

    Whew. I feel ancient. Could you sing at age six? Or tell jokes at age ten? Or dance like a champion at age thirteen? I couldn’t!

    July 7th, 2007

    This guy’s name is Brian. He looks like a regular guy with a regular job. Turns out he does have a day job. He is a wrestling coach in a local high school. On a Friday evening at Inner Harbor, he shouted at passers by to stop and wait to see what he can show them. So they did.

    Brian

    Then he talked through his act like a Buddhist. A zen practitioner with attitude. And a sense of humor. When he made jokes that were not suitable for kids, he added a caveat that was even more inconvenient to his spectators. He said that if the kids understood what he was talking about, it was their parents’ fault. The he asked people if they wanted to see something terribly dangerous and when they hesitated, he laughed at them and asked them why they had stopped. He smirked, and said, “You think you would have stopped if you didn’t want to see me do something stupid?”

    I couldn’t walk away. Before I knew it, I was watching him light his tongue on fire. Then he had this 14 year old light a couple of torches from that flame. Then he juggled lit torches. Then he lit a jumping rope on fire. Then he stood on a 2-foot ball and jumped rope. While he balanced himself on the ball. And the rope was still on fire.

    Brian

    In a bit, he had a couple of people lock him in 2 straight jackets. Then he stood on that ball. He had someone time him. And he got out of both straight jackets in 2 minutes and 20 seconds. He had claimed that he could do it in 2 minutes and 30 seconds. He was still on that bloody 2-foot ball.

    Brian. At the Harbor. He was on fire.

    July 4th, 2007

    Every once in awhile I come across things that simply blow me away. A colleague told me about the Potts phenomenon and I quickly got myself aquainted with it. Like American Idol there is a show in the UK called ‘Britains Got Talent’ which starred a certain gentleman called Paul Potts. Having watched him on Youtube and swallowed down many lumps that arose in my throat, I can understand now why England went Paul Potts potty!

    His First Audtion


    The Next Round


    The Final Show - which he won!


    Watching things like this makes me wonder. Why did a voice like that exist in a personality like that? He’s obviously had a sad life thus far, was it some test he had to pass, which he did with flying colors because life for him now, will have changed forever.

    Amazing!

    Riggs/-

    July 3rd, 2007

    Thursday, 28 June

    GP: And, these are my fish. My roommate keeps trying to overfeed them because he thinks they’re starving.

    Me: Do they have names?

    GP: Yeah, the gold fish are called X-45 and 3PO.

    Me: Ah.

    GP: Do you know what the red one is?

    Me: He’s one of those fighters that will eat up the gold fish, I imagine?!

    GP: Yup. Betta fish. Isn’t he beautiful?

    Me: Yes.. quite incredible.

    GP: You know, I didnt buy him from a shop.

    Me: Oh?

    GP: My sister and I had driven down to the trash dump a few minutes from here. This was the day I was leaving for India last month.

    Me: Okay?

    GP: I had stepped out of the car to dump our trash and was walking back when my sister got out and said she had seen something move under one of the boxes. I figured it was a rat or something. But she insisted on checking it out.

    So we walked towards the box and right next to it, we find this little plastic container filled with a thick reddish liquid. And there was something moving around in it. A near-dead Betta fish, swimming around desperately in water sullied by his own excreta. Looked like he hadn’t been fed in weeks and the water hadn’t been changed in years.

    We brought the container home, cleaned up his water and voila - the fiery, valiant Betta, unfazed by his ordeals, just swimming around and looking at us curiously.

    Me: Wow… that is some story!

    GP: There’s more. You can’t feed a Betta regular fish food. It’s not enough. They’re used to eating other fish, so they need something a lot more nutritious.

    Me: Okay?

    GP: Nearly 6 months ago, I had stepped into a store to buy food for the gold fish. I was running late for class, so I picked up the first bottle I found and then when I came home, I realized that it was meant for Betta fish. So my roommate picked up a bottle of regular food. I had been meaning to return the Betta fish food for 6 months but it kept slipping my mind. So when we cleaned this guy’s water and realized he was a Betta fish, I knew exactly what I could feed him!

    Me: I don’t know what to say. Makes you wonder, huh?

    GP: Tell me about it.

    Me: So what’s his name?

    GP: I haven’t been able to think of one that’s fitting yet.

    Me: I think it ought to be Wale.

    GP: Hm, well sure, why not.

    Wednesday, 27 June

    Cabbie: ‘Morning Miss, how are you today?

    Me: I’m good, thanks. How are you?

    Cabbie: I’m good, I’m good.. where are we going today?

    Me: West Nursery, 312

    Cabbie: That’s just down the road from here!

    Me: Yes, it is, but it’s too far to walk!

    Cabbie: Ah, so you’re the Indian girl they told me about!

    Me: Who?!

    Cabbie: The other cab drivers. My friend Ray is a fan!

    Me: Ray’s a sweet guy. Are you from Trinidad too?

    Cabbie: No, no, I’m from Nigeria.

    Me: Ah, ok. You visit often?

    Cabbie: No, it’s been 6 years…

    Me: Will you go back soon?

    Cabbie: I hope so.. maybe go home for a bit in December this year… but I don’t know. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.

    Me: Where are you from in Nigeria? Lagos?

    Cabbie: You been?!

    Me: No, my cousins lived in Lagos for a bit.

    Cabbie: Wow! It’s a small world eh?

    Me: It is, if you know my cousins!

    Cabbie: You know, I have cousins in Lagos too!

    Me: You don’t say! What’s your name?

    Cabbie: Wa-lay.

    Me: W-a-l-a-y?

    Cabbie: No, W-a-l-e, Wa-lay.

    Me: That’s a nice name, what does it mean?

    Cabbie: Oh, you would not believe me!

    Me: Why not? What does it mean?!

    Cabbie: In the dialect I speak, Wale means “No matter where you go, remember to come back home.”

    June 29th, 2007

    Jeen_pool

    -Rigged /-

    June 29th, 2007

    Juice_stand

    -Rigged /-

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