If all the World was a Stage

Apparently there's a reason why little girls love their Barbie dolls and the little (and not-so-little) boys adore their car-sets. For the very same reason, the loveless turn to romance novels for reprieve and the bored-with-their-lives seek refuge indulging in the lives of others. Turns out it's human nature to hunt down and cling on to the stuff missing in our own existence, or what we hope will shape ourselves in the near future.

Above-mentioned little girls would love to be as pretty as Barbie, and the boys long to one day own cars as cool. The broken-hearted want faith in romance again, and the drama-less want drama.

Most of us resort to a self-prescribed dosage of the idiot-box to get us through. The chick-flicks for a guaranteed happily-ever-after. A high-powered action film where the bad guys always finish last. Or a good old musical where there's a pinch of tension, but everything really is right with the world.

But at the end of each movie, we have to get back to our oh-so-real, drab and unfair lives. Where we can't just do things on a whim and expect everything to turn out alright. Where there actually is such a thing as unrequited love. Where people die and don't come back two episodes later. Where everybody's skinny sans-lipo.

If only real life did resemble the movies. All we'd have to do to elevate world peace say, is get the nuns to sing: 'How do we solve a problem like nuclear warfareee?,' and soon all will be well with the world. If only the bad guys really would end up last. If only all men were like that chap in P.S-I Love You, and all women were well..oh I don't know. Lara Croft? And how great would it be, like in Grease, if given no notice whatsoever everyone knew the lyrics and steps to a sudden song and dance routine. 

But then we wouldn't have to rely on the TV for relief any longer. Unless it's those brocolli-stuck-in-teeth moments we're after..or wedgies.

Cheers.

 

For a Rose would Smell as Sweet...

I suppose the biggest hurdle an entrepreneur must overcome is the task of assigning a name to his/her brainchild.

Some just can't be bothered I'm guessing; just replacing the preceding article and capitalizing (the grammatical, not the political term..relax) the noun will suffice. 'A shop' will be elevated in rank to 'The (pronounced 'thee' for extra flashiness) Shop.' A publishing house will acquire the honourable title of 'The Publishing House.' If you get my drift.

Then there are some who are downright witty with their alias of choice. I found the tag 'HeadMasters' for a pouplar (obviously!) salon in Colombo so intelligently appropriate that I wanted to just drop my things in the middle of the street, and applaud. 

And finally, there are those enterprisers that I genuinely worry for; the selected designation is so random and unapt that I just know my 3-year-old nephew could come up with something more befitting.

Eg: 'Hyperpanda.' Hyperpanda??!! I honestly fail to comprehend how that one came into being. For (correct me if i'm wrong) the first thing that comes to mind when I'm told that the supermarket giant 'Hyperpanda' has just opened up in town, is the rather disturbing image of a massive, super-tripping marsupial running up and down the aisles like a child on a sugar-fix from the most mind-blowing lollipop in the world. Thanks very much, but I'll pass.

Inexplicably enough, Hyperpanda ia doing as well as HeadMasters which in turn seems to be on par with The Shop. For on the long run, all we want as customers, is a great haircut, top-of-the-notch service and fresh produce; even if it means running into a giant bamboo-devouring creature while we shop.  

Cheers.

You know you're unemployed when...

- You know the names of all the CNN anchors, including the weather reporters.

- The concept of a new chore is appealing.

- You become overly bummed-out when you reach the last page of the 'Appointments' supplement.

- A pigeon smashing against your window is the highlight of your day.

- Finding that missing sock is a mission on par with The Big Bang experiment.

- Time-management is a fast-diminishing notion, and the significance of a calendar is forgotten.

- That painting on the wall is never hung straight enough.

Bummed-out Buyer

Two weeks ago I was flipping through the TV, for want of something better to do (cut me some slack, i'm unemployed) when I found Oprah half-way through one of her advertising stints; the one she likes to call 'My Favourite Things.'

Brownies, Flab-hiding tights and some sort of stationery item later, I finally got to watch the program I was waiting for.

Now just yesterday I paid a visit to the local hypermarket, and having strolled (oh-so-involuntarily) into the stationery aisle I came across one of the products on Oprah's must-have lists.

And believe it or not..i got excited. Like, excited enough to exclaim out loud when I saw the thing on display...and still excited enough to joyously prance with it to the check-out counter.

I go home and the first thing I do is hurry up to my room to carefully tear open the cover-case...like some post-birthday party birthday girl.

So this thing I bought..it's called a 'Flag-pen.' It's a pen-shaped device having two operational components; a highlighter with which to..well, highlight, and an in-built post-it cartridge to flag the page you've highlighted on...all in one gadget!

Yea..it's not all that big a deal is it? No more than 5 minutes after I had experimented with my new purchase, the veil of  stupidity lifted and revealed the (much more reliable) demeanour of common-sense. I had become yet another victim of Oprahganda.*

So this is how they operate, is it...those darn marketing gurus? Big celebrity+little-known useless product=unimaginable profits. And oblivious customers running around screaming like excited little girls.

Call me bitter, but you would be too if you're just done studying and stuck with a gadget intended to aid that very purpose.

Hmm..maybe they'd let me exchange it for those tights...

Cheers.

*Oprahganda-Anything that changes a person's opinion after watching or reading something from Oprah. [urbandictionary.com]

Birdy Birdy Go Away...

I was half-way through another blog entry when an exceptionally loud THUD almost shocked my young and fruitless life out of me. Turns out a pigeon had misconstrued my apparently spotless window for the pearly gates leading into my living room.

Now i'm not a fan of birds in general, but I think if Forbes had a list of Most Valueless Creatures, i'm damn sure those ugly grey things we call 'pigeons' would fall right on the top spot, easy.

They sight human heads as targets for their poop, construct nests on your window AC's and make crude noises that serve no purpose whatsoever other than to irritate the pants (for want of a less obscene term) out of you.

I've tried to see the good in them..honestly I have. But after just 5 minutes of observing those avian beings, I had come to the conclusion that they choose to live their lives simply fluttering with one another from AC vent to AC vent (musical vents?), and treating themselves to an occassional session of baby-making.

Conclusion: Pigeons avail no worthwhile purpose in this 'circle of life.' Seriously..where was their presence in Pride Rock when Simba was born anyway? Useless I tell you..useless. Too many a time have I fallen prey to their excellent aim, to be convinced otherwise. 

Cheers.