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.

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.

The Green Goblin

Apparently there are some things that just aren't done. Ordering the Chicken Caesar Salad at Mc.Donalds for instance.

Frankly, I don't quite understand what the fuss is all about. I just felt like eating healthy for a change, and they did have the salad on the menu.

'I'll have the chicken caesar salad please!'

'The what?'

'The chicken salad??'

'Oh..yea..sure.' *looks at me strangely as he reaches for my order from the back of the refrigerator*

So I think my salad looks great..the lettuce is all fresh and crunchy-looking, and the chicken strips seem devoid of any trace of oil, fat, grease or any other lard'ish counterpart. Little did I expect that my fellow diners would 'look' a 'great' deal as well!

I started feeling the eyes on me as I walked my tray back to my seat. The curious 'watcha-got-there?' folks were intrigued to find out what was so astoundingly green on my tray. And as I sat down, the couple at the next table stared unabashedly for a good 5 minutes, then went on to whisper to each other oh-so-obviously. And I know those weren't 'sweet-nothings' they were exchanging.

Already feeling like I had broken some sort of code of conduct, I proceeded to scatter on my croutons, sprinkle my pepper and squeeze out half of my salad dressing ( I want dressing on my salad, not salad on my dressing!). And just when I was starting to get used to the occassional double-takes of tray-bearers passing my table, a sweaty faced kid, fresh from the play area decided to come to a halt just next to me..and stare.

She stared at my salad, then stared at me...and then back at my salad again. I don't think the poor thing's ever been exposed to anything that's not in a bun..or not fried. I might as well have been feeding on a horse carcass off my table..and grown horns to boot.

I obviously ignored the girl; I've learnt from experience that you can never out-stare a child. Either way, I began to question what was on my plate myself. Who orders a salad at McDonalds anyway?

But my dinner tasted as fabulous as it looked (a penny for everytime I hear that line in another conversation), and was worth every double take and curious glance it racked up. So the next time I pay a visit to good ol' Ronald, I might just order the same thing!

And maybe even..*gasp*..just the garden salad!!

Cheers.

Vanity Affair

It's true when 'they' (some sort of secret authority figure) say that you never realize the value of something, until it's taken away from you. Be it a pet, electricity, mirror....yes, mirror.

Having recently purchased a new cupboard for my room, i've had to detach my full-length mirror from the wall, and keep it aside until the handyman came around (it's a big job alright, holes have to be drilled and stuff!).

And oh, how deprived I have been! Putting aside the need for a reflective surface to pop my lenses in (I manage with my compact), what about all my other mirror necessities??

Where else am I am supposed to look while crooning along to Colbie Collait into my mike-slash-hairbrush? And how on earth am I ever going to find out if my ass looks big in that dress? Or if those shoes match with my purse? And that ghastly contraption (the weighing scale) is not always the best opinion when it comes to weight loss/gain y'know!!

So until that beloved looking-glass of mine finds it's way back onto my wall, i'll just have to assume that I weigh a 100kgs and that my tush is size of a planet in anything I wear!

Cheers.

OMG!!

I've never been much of a 'LOL'er. For the plain reason that I can't get myself to believe that the person on the other side of the screen is actually ridiculously 'laughing out loud' everytime I make a funny. So it should'nt come as too much of a surprise that i'm also a critic of the ever-so-plausible LMAO and  ROTFL as well.

I much rather prefer (in tune to my apparent 'irritating' politically-correct ways) to appreciate witticisms via msn with a simple (but realistic) 'hehe' or 'haha', and if it's really funny, a 'HAHAHAHA'!

BRB and GTG are fine in my books because there are times when I really do have to go, and really will be back (hasta la vista?).

This i've been proclaiming far and wide (hyperbole), preaching to anyone who'll listen, the evils of the chatroom abbreviations...until I was proved wrong.

The other day I was in the library chatting (real life) with a couple of friends (in our defence, there really was no 'silence' sign hung up) when we happened to recall a funny video we had come across recently. So this one friend started describing it to the other. I say 'started' because she never really got around to do it. On recollection of a particularly hilarious bit, she literally collapsed into a fit of giggles, tipped over(!) to the floor, and (get this) rolled from side to side!!

Now that was an ROTFL if there ever was one! I tell you, my faith has been renewed...i've seen the error of my ways. If there actually are people out there who ROTFL, who am i to judge anymore?

Maybe I really can LMAO if i try hard enough.

Cheers

Unintentional Perv

Everyone knows that the biggest difference in the transition from childhood to adulthood is the loss of innocence.

The innocence i have in mind is the sort that enables a child to say whatever he/she wants without being questioned.
You know what i'm talking about. When's the last time you were able to say 'I like salted nuts!' without anyone in your audience bursting out into a not-so-muffled guffaw?
I honestly don't know when this happened..when we realize we aren't able to say just anything without it having a double-meaning. And mind you, the amount of sniggers isn't proportional to the intelligence of your company, anyone at all will do!

So for those of you who have fallen prey (once too often) to these accidental slip-ups, here's a list of phrases you might want to avoid:
                         'My, these balls are bouncy!'
                         'Those buns look good!'
                         'That's my sausage!'
                         'I'll have the breast piece please.'
and of course  'I like salted nuts.'

You might also want to refrain from making yummy noises while enjoying a particular dessert or favourite food.


Cheers.

Murphy And His Law

Now Murphy (though a fictional fellow), was a smart man. He's probably come closest to having all the answers to our existence than the non-fictional sect of philosophers.
And what was this wise man's theory? Ahh, the wise man he said :"Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way." Now that my firends is life in a nutshell! At least my life in a nutshell.

How else would you possibly explain when your calculator stops working right in the middle of a math exam? Or when you spill something indelible on the sofa, just when you're expecting company? Or when you realize at the checkout counter that you've left your wallet at home! Ooh..or when the presentation that you spent all night preparing, doesn't open on the day it's due?

Sure we may complain (and don't we just love to do that), but if you think about it, how terribly bland would it be if nothing ever went wrong? If that guitar string didn't snap in the middle of a serenade, or if the mustard from your hot dog didn't spill over on your new shirt..where would all the punchlines go? So much for witty conversation at dinner parties or any narration beginning with 'You'll never believe what happened to me the other day!..' People would just rant on about their perfect lives..their horrendously boring perfect lives!

So, I think every mishap happens for a reason; that it serves a greater purpose of sorts. I might not necessarily feel the same way at the point where i'm the victim, but hey, at least i'll have a story to tell!
And I take your leave with this borrowed verse:

I never had a slice of bread,
Particularly large and wide,
That did not fall upon the floor,
And always on the buttered side.


Cheers.

Marital Menagerie

Having recently turned 20, and having been born to a community such as mine, i'm starting to get accustomed to the rising tension associated with conversations containing snippets of 'we must start looking for a good boy..' (mum) and 'you know shash, it is our obligation as parents..' (dad).

As the months fly by i've also noticed the increasing frequency with which mum asks me if i have a 'boyfriend,' and have learned to amuse myself with parring frequency; at first it was 'No ma, relax,' then i tried 'Yes mother, i've got a harem of suitors each waiting for their turn,' and finally i had a go at 'Actually mum, i've been having a 3-year relationship with the shopguy downstairs who's currently planning our elopement!' That last witticism earned me a glare that could've put the Huns to shame, but it was oh-so worth it! Not-so-surprisingly i haven't heard much on the subject since.

But honestly, the arranged-marriage system is a farce and a half! Now now critics, don't get me wrong..i'm all up for a little selective breeding, just hear me out. You remember how as a child you'd visit the zoo? You'd stop at the different enclosures, study each inmate, and at the end of the trip you'd decide which creature was your favourite. Well..that zoo-trip is a pretty accurate description of the afore-mentioned process.

Ok i admit..i'm probably exaggerating a tad. The ways of the hired hit-man cupid have definitely evolved over the years. You'll see less adverts in The Daily's marital column (parents seek pretty, domesticated girl for their 26-year old, not-so-attractive son), folks are now willing to consider their offspring's take on the issue, and gone are the days when the bride's trousseau (including wedding-night intimates) were openly displayed to all those holding an invitation card.

It's not so bad a game, this. Just a terribly amusing one.


Cheers.