Amazing

Apparently stores are having midnight sales for Windows Vista...That’s about it. I need say nothing more. Use the absurdity of that premise to make up your own jokes. Unless of course, you are one of those people actually in line waiting for a copy of Windows Vista…in which case you have my everlasting sympathy.

I can see it right now, grizzled I.T. support personnel and managers queued up in front of a store. A smile on their lips, (Just one smile shared between the whole bunch of them. It’s a communist thing.), a song in their hearts (Again, just one song. A different reason.The DMCA and all that crap. The song is Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy.), and a spring in their footstep (surgically inserted, without local anesthesia.). Stretching their necks to catch a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of the box, taking photographs, blogging about it through their cell phones. (Face it. These are I.T. folks. You know they’re going to be doing that.)

So yeah, Midnight openings to sell Vista, not so good an idea.

Short Posts are the bomb!

No agonizing over circular references. Not having to agonize over pop culture references. (By pop culture, I mean previous blog posts.) Not having to agonize over whether my brackets matched and weren’t dangerously unbalanced. Joy!

But now I begin to fear that this post is too short.(I’m not overcompensating!) It needs a filler. The slice of bread that goes with the meat of the sandwich, the staple that makes the stapler the joy of the modern world.

I decided to cook today. A stir fry sounded like a fantastic idea. It was coming along swimmingly. However, half way through I decided that everything goes better with an egg, and so I added one. After a brief pause for effect, I added another. The stir fry became a scrambled egg with a lot of vegetables. Fascinating eh?

Notice how I snuck that filler in without anybody noticing? I’m cool like that.

Met a fore.

Stream of consciousness follows.

My new favourite simile (analogy), “Like a stapler in flight.” Incredibly graceful and deadly.

Every cellular service provider wants me to sign a two year contract. Two years is far too long. Anything more than a week is far too long. A year I can deal with. Anything longer than that makes me antsy.

Hotel beds have far too many pillows. I have six fucking pillows, two cushions and a long cylindrical cushion. I’m sure that there is a technical name for that and I’m now going to have to Google it.

Five minutes later, I’ve been defeated.

And then Mary and Wikipedia ride to the rescue. It is a bolster. I was under the impression that a bolster was more pillow-ish, but apparently it is not. The very foundation that supports my belief system has been rocked. I’m all shaken up. What other delusions have I been labouring under?

Are toasters not sentient?

Aren’t handcuffs and butter good for you?

Is it in fact, “Paint you own pottery” studio?

I dislike it when people use “U”, instead of “You”. “You” isn’t so hard to type. “Y” is next to the “U” and “O” is one key over. One happy neighbourhood of keys.

The “2” key on my keyboard is broken. I really need to pound on it to get it to register. And of course it had to be the “2” key. Twelve years ago, the number keys were all equal. Friends and comrades in a classless society. No longer. “2” because of its close association with “@” is now one of the neuve-riche. Like the boyhood friend of a politician, a politician who made it big. And now the boyhood friend shines in the reflected glory of the one who made it big. “2” and “@” could be a book or a movie. Something along the lines of the Godfather or Planet of the Apes or Mary Poppins.

My new favourite simile (analogy), “As sweet as a stapler.” Incredibly graceful and deadly.

Man, that sucked and I’m stone cold sober.

Sober-ish.

Blue...

...It's the new brown

Triangles.

Most Inappropriate Analogy Ever:

I’m watching the Tea Time show on ESPN during the second test match (Yes, I was watching ESPN and I was watching cricket. Do get your jaws off of the floor.), and someone asked someone else (We shall make this an A-B story, Someone One is A and Someone Two is B), i.e. A asked B to describe India’s batting. And this is what B said,

“The Indian Batting…is like AIDS.” Most. Fucking. Inappropriate. Analogy. Ever. I do not remember the reasoning behind this analogy, but I assume it was something like this, “The Indian Batting is a collection of symptoms and infections resulting from the specific damage to the immune system caused by the human immunodeficiency virus and has killed more than 25 million people since it was first recognized. So is AIDS. Ergo the analogy.”

Dumbass.

Least Effective Advertisement Ever:

Courtesy the good folks at Yahoo India, or more accurately the intellectually challenged employees of the advertising company that Yahoo India retained.( I have a point to make somewhere here. Bear with that last clunky sentence.)

On a billboard, “Log on to yahoo.co.in and get a Free email address!” Wow! A free fucking email address. Be still my heart. An email address that I do not have to pay for. All mine and fucking free to boot. A temptation like none other. Nothing could stop me from logging on to yahoo.co.in and getting the free email address. Nothing, except the fact that that was a fucking hook in 1996. Dumbasses. What next? Next they’ll be telling me to log on to yahoo.co.in and search for “Supermodels, butter and handcuffs.” That is so 1998(…um…Perhaps a little too specific an example?)

Grey Anatomy could be the title of a geriatric Porn Flick. (No reason for putting that line in there, and so I did.)

This week I visited an ancient temple tourist trap. This is a place famous (notorious?) for its stone carvings and so I decided to pick up a small souvenir. I dropped by a shop and grabbed the first one I saw. It was a small round stone paperweight.

Blink.

Blink.

(That was not an entreaty or a command. That was description of my reaction. Note the speechlessness and the jaw on the floor)

(Let’s make this one into a C-D story, I’ll be C and the carver/shopkeeper/comic relief will be D)

C: Um…

D: Yessir! You Like?

C: Um…yeah…Um what is this?

D: Paperweight sir.

C: Yeah, I got that bit. I meant the um motif…design on it.

D: Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Ah that explains it. Haven’t ever seen stone figures getting that much action. And I’m moderately sure that that lady’s pose is anatomically improbable.

D: Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: That is an awful lot of porn on something the size of a tennis ball, but…Um, yeah I’ll pass.

D: (Insistently) Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Something else perhaps, maybe a paperweight that happily avoids the controversial topic of um…exposed genitalia.

D: (Looking disappointed) Scenes from the Kama Sutra Sir.

C: Yes, we’ve established that. Do you perhaps have scenes from the um…Kama Sutra (PG-13) version.

D: (Enthusiastically) Scenes from the KamaSutra Sir.

Clearly, this man, the porn king of the south, had a one track mind. Any paper weights he would be willing to part with would involve exposed genitalia and awkward, painful looking poses. I beat a hasty retreat, returning the stone paperweight to its boudoir. I think I heard an indistinct moaning emanating from the paperweight.

The paperweight was Grey in color.

It had tons of anatomy on it.

Grey anatomy.

Full circle.