Sheer Vogon Poetry

Blogger Baiting

2007-03-10T19:30:00.000-05:00

It is a well known fact that certain members of the blogging species have, and I will abandon my usual tasteful linguistic delicacy here, a red-hot two foot pole up their asses. Simply put, they take themselves way too seriously, taking offence at the smallest of deviations from their dangerously high levels of political correctness, which usually come at the expense of factual correctness.

So to remedy that, I occasionally do the following. The world might not be a better place for it, but I sure as fuck get my kicks and giggles out of it.

I leave random, irrelevant, irreverent comments on their blogs, often, just to see how they'll react. (Oh no, not on YOUR blog, I'd never do that!)

Come on, admit it, we've all trolled! There's no shame in it. It's how I started my blogging career, as, uh, some people on my blogroll might claim.

Anyway, the ones that respond with humor get my instant respect. Many, you'll find, are not intelligent enough to handle curveballs.

Ve are the robots.
Ve are the robots.
Ve protzess informatzion uberlinearly.
Ve cannot protzess your reqvest.
Ve cannot protzess your reqvest.
Ve cannot protzess your reqvest.

And on a completely unrelated note, I need a man right now. A man who will lovingly gaze into my eyes, grab me by the hair, and softly whisper the words 'te quiero, puta!' in my ears. The boyfriend (fool*!) ain't doing that because he isn't frikkin' here. The man I made out with one drunken night who is now living in my apartment for a week ain't doing it either, because his Muttersprache is more Teutonic than Latinic.

Must be the romantic in me, what else do you expect from the girl who goes by the oh-so-adorable-type-1-and-2-diabetes-inducing cutesypie blogging name of Raindrop?

*He ought to be a little less complacent about this situation, in my opinion. DrunkenNightBoy isn't cute, but he's easily accessible, and he's been partially tried and tested. The boyfriend is not readily available. I may be super loyal and trustworthy, but that doesn't mean he can just go ahead and take my loyalty for granted! Like I said, fool!

Edit: Look to your right. Doesn't the woman in the picture have a seriously hot ass?

Whiny

2007-03-03T20:58:00.000-05:00

I'm seriously bored. I'm in a yacht/chateau buying mood. Actually, I'd prefer it if someone bought me a yacht/chateau. Or even a fucking Hermes scarf.

Will you be my sugar daddy? Or sugar mommy, if that's your thing?

The Girl With The Golden Toering

2007-02-18T19:38:00.000-05:00

Your first mission, 007, is to play the Bond theme in your head. Sets the right kind of mood for this post.

Your next mission is to offer me your resignation. Because Bond Girl's taking over. Yes, you heard me. This show now belongs to me. Sorry, it wasn't personal.

Bond's trademark is no longer the gun. So cliche, so dated. We have now developed the Golden Toering. 24 karat perfection, armed with a tiny diode laser device that ionizes air as it lases. The R&D wing of MIX developed the Ionazer in the year 2006, one of our most closely guarded secrets. When the Toering is armed, it sets up conduction pathways capable of delivering fatal electric shocks of up to 10,000 volts over a 100 metre range. It can also be used to deliver smaller shocks, enough to stun an average sized human being without causing fatality. Best of all, it goes perfectly well with any style of clothing or footwear.

MIX has secretly been running a school. A Bond Girl training school.

Potential Bond Girls are taught every skill they need in order to become top notch spies. These girls eventually find highly successful careers in international espionage, and very often, will end up in rival agencies. Best friends today might plot evil, but ingeniously clever ways to outwit/outsmart/kill each other in the future. They're prepared for this, they are ruthless. They're brooding intellectuals one minute and smoking hot sex goddesses the next. They can fly planes and make explosives out of paper clips and a cigarette lighter. They speak fluent Russian and Chinese, and that's not all they do with those tongues. The best part? They don't whine when hormonal, they simply blow you to smithereens.

And only one Girl gets to be Bond Girl. That girl is now me.

Agent Raindrop reporting, over and out.

Woman On Top (Well, almost)

2007-02-11T22:32:00.000-05:00

How annoying is it to climb ONLY 35.7 feet of a 36 ft wall because that last hold is just not stable?

On the one hand, the cute guy you're with is cheering you on from below. On the other, your roommate who has a thing for him is your belayer and therefore, effectively holds your life in her hands.

And you know she's hormonal right now.

So considering I'm in one piece, I suppose my day wasn't so bad after all.

If I were an advice columnist in a trashy mag.

2007-02-04T18:52:00.000-05:00

Today, I shall attempt to answer a question that women have been asking themselves ever since men stopped beating them over the head with clubs and then dragging them off to their caves to the sounds of cheering crowds pronouncing them cavemen and wife.

So would you rather be hit over the head and dragged kicking and screaming into your man's cave, or are you the patient sort who prefers to wait until he pops the question? If you'd rather he knocked you unconscious and claimed you as his, then you're just the sensible kind of reader we hope to attract in this magazine. If you think you'd rather wait, then make sure you think up a few dozen cat names while you're at it, for all the cats that are going to keep you company in your miserably lonely old age.

Don't just take my word for it. Cosmo's with me on this one. So are the authors of 'He's just not that into you'. At least, I think they're with me anyway, since I haven't ever read the book. But like most books, I imagine that you can judge what's in it based on the cover.

I used the incredibly scientific method of averaging some random numbers that popped into my head to come up with how long a guy should take to propose to you before you tell him to go screw himself (politely, of course). It's 1.1932333333333(rounded off) years.

If you've been seeing him for even an instant longer than 1.19323333333333 years, then it's time to call it quits. Go ahead now, make excuses for him, tell me he can't help it, he's a commitmentphobe.

My response to that would be:

As my mom would say, my foot. My grandmother didn't let her use words like ass.

He's only a commitmentphobe because he's not sure he wants to be with YOU. Find yourself another boy. This one's not worth keeping.

P.S. I have proved on my other blog that men are cavemen.

Click here to read it.

Men are cavemen.

Racism or plain old bitchiness?

2007-01-18T00:06:00.000-05:00

Big Brother with Shilpa Shetty.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KRUU6WdIbo

Can't upload the damn video, but click on the link!

Decipher this!

2007-01-07T22:20:00.000-05:00

This is a typical Mediocretes-Raindrop conversation. It's amazing that we manage to understand each other at all.

Mediocretes :i love my font
Raindrop :you're a girl.
Mediocretes :the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
Raindrop :with your purple cursive font.
Raindrop :dude, you're gay.
Raindrop :seriously.
Mediocretes :yup
Raindrop :purple AND cursive? come on.
Mediocretes :i won't apologize for being gay or loving my font
Raindrop :that's fine, i wasn't expecting you to.
Mediocretes :i just wish it had a little heart for the i dot

Raindrop :as a kid, i always got annoyed when girlie girls used to draw circles over their is.
Raindrop :i just DOTTED my is.
Raindrop :i refuse to say i's.
Mediocretes :yeah... i's would be a typo.
Mediocretes :not really a typo, but incorrect.
Raindrop :i'm not sure though
Mediocretes :why?
Mediocretes :you wouldn't just dot a single i.
Mediocretes :so, your is.
Mediocretes :which could be confused with a singular is.
Mediocretes :but i doubt you'd just dot one single is.
Raindrop :no, no. i think there's a special rule for alphaets.
Mediocretes :so then, it'd be iss.
Mediocretes :no, i don't think there's any rule.
Raindrop :googling it
Mediocretes :i don't ever use an apostrophe
Mediocretes :i think the webster's included it because people just naturally tend to use it
Raindrop :me neither, but i've always seen one used. i wasn't aware of this special rule.
Mediocretes :like CD's
Raindrop :it makes it easy babe.
Mediocretes :etc.
Raindrop :CDs sounds wrong.
Mediocretes :not to me.
Raindrop :is
Mediocretes :CD's just looks better
Raindrop :is is very hard to distinguish from is.
Raindrop :as in the third person form of to be
Mediocretes :yup, it is
Raindrop :as opposed to plural of i.
Mediocretes :but i's could be mistaken for i's... if you get what i mean.
Mediocretes :so some thrid rule should be invented
Mediocretes :like an underscore.
Raindrop :what's the other i's anyway?
Mediocretes :so i don't really buy the apostrophe rule
Raindrop :i's house? where i is someone you know?
Raindrop :but you can tell from the context, can't you?
Raindrop :if it's possessive, it's always followed by a noun..
Mediocretes :the i's construction in the font wasn't correct
Mediocretes :that's the other i's
Mediocretes :not just the plural.
Mediocretes :exactly
Mediocretes :so you can tell is from the context too!
Mediocretes :i's just just more aesthetically appealing... it's not more logical.
Mediocretes :if you can tell one of the i's from context... you obviously can tell the other.
Raindrop :anyway, the point is, i used to dot mine and not circle them!
Mediocretes :so did i.
Raindrop :i always thought people who circled their is were gay.
Raindrop :i thought it was unnecessarily frivolous to circle your is. i still do.
Mediocretes :well, circling is incorrect to begin with.
Mediocretes :it's a dot.
Raindrop :yeah, it's incorrect and it's also very gay!
Raindrop :it's almost as bad as hearts.
Raindrop :i've seen those too.
Raindrop :those, thankfully, were not encouraged in school.
Raindrop :yes, don't idiots realize that you DOT your fucking is. you don't CIRCLE them.
Raindrop :just as you cross your Ts and don't fucking ellipse them.
Mediocretes :yes... but the logical counterpart for a dash (or cross) would be a rectangle, not an ellipse
Mediocretes :so yeah... you don't rectangle your ts
Mediocretes :actually, i don't know.
Mediocretes :an ellipse might be more logical.
Mediocretes :yeah, probably an ellipse
Mediocretes :not a rectangle.
Raindrop :yeah, if a dash became a rectangle, a dot would become a square.
Mediocretes :a rectangle's a different from.. it's like arranging 4 dashes together
Mediocretes :the basic structure is the same.
Mediocretes :so yeah, ellipse.
Raindrop :this is the height of pointlessness.
Mediocretes :i don't think so. this has deep mathematical implications!
Mediocretes :no, seriously
Mediocretes :but if i really think about it
Mediocretes :a dash has no counterpart.
Mediocretes :because a dot is truly dimensionless.
Mediocretes :but a dash isn't.
Raindrop :a dash has one dimension. big deal.
Mediocretes :yes, which is what makes it fundamentally different from a dot
Raindrop :dude, let's get back to the real world for a second.
Raindrop :the sort of dot an i requires is NOT a dimensionless dot.
Raindrop :it has the same dimensions as the dash.
Raindrop :two.
Raindrop :so just as a two dimensional dot becomes a two dimensional circle, a two dimensional dash becomes a two dimensional ellipse.
Mediocretes :ok....
Mediocretes :so i agree..
Mediocretes :it's an ellipse
Mediocretes :not a rectangle.
Mediocretes :if the dot became a square... the the dash would become a rectangle
Raindrop :yup.
Raindrop :but this conversation was about circling is.
Mediocretes :yeah.. but you brought up the ellipse... and i, very uncharacteristically, was misled by own mammoth intelligence... that a dash might be better represented by a rectangle, in an alternate 2-D universe.

Raindrop :I think in 3-d babe. in 4-d actually, i'm the inventor of the hypercube.

Raindrop :i called it the quadrube.

Raindrop :i can draw you one
Mediocretes :the fact that you can draw one proves that you're full of shit.
Raindrop :it's going to be a representation of a 4-d object on 2-d paper.
Raindrop :well, it's like drawing a cube.
Mediocretes :yeah, but that's because our brains can process perspective in 2-D
Mediocretes :but our brains can't do that with 4-D

Mediocretes :so you can't represent 4-D in 2-D
Mediocretes :so fuck you.
Raindrop :i can represent 4d in 2d as well as i can represent 3d in 2d. we understand 3d, but how does that make a difference?
Mediocretes :fine, draw it.
Raindrop :when you see a 3-d object drawn in 2-d, you can tell it's possible because it makes sense. a 4-d object in 2-d makes little sense. but it's still a decent representation.
Raindrop :okay. it's easy enough babe. i'm sure you could draw it too.
Raindrop :as a square becomes a cube, a cube becomes a quadrube.
Mediocretes :a 4d object in 4d makes little sense... which is why it makes even less sense in 2d.
Mediocretes :then fucking draw it.
Raindrop :a 4-d object in 4-d makes little sense? what the fuck?
Raindrop :dude, you're so constrained by 3 fucking dimensions.
Raindrop :and btw, this is pretty basic higher dimensional geometry.
Mediocretes :and you're constrained by your own hyper stupidity.
Raindrop :dude, fuck off.
Raindrop :i'll do BETTER than draw a damn quadrube, i'll SHOW YOU A PREDRAWN PIC!
Mediocretes :ok
Raindrop :http://home.san.rr.com/slawek/Tata/Math/4DGeom.html
Raindrop :i can show you many more.
Raindrop :http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourth_dimension
Mediocretes :that is absolutely the dumbest thing i've seen. not mathematically, but the visual representation.
Mediocretes :dude, i get the fourth dimension
Raindrop :how's it dumb? you're an idiot.
Mediocretes :i'm talking about the visual respresentation.
Raindrop :that's a visual representation! a pretty decent one.
Raindrop :http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Hypercube_diagram.svg
Mediocretes :yawn.
Mediocretes :i'm going to shower.
Raindrop :go shower
Raindrop :loser.

2006-12-14T21:19:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. I've been a bad blogger, what with posting infrequently and not responding to comments. I'm going to be off the blogosphere* for a couple of weeks. Happy New Year in advance, y'all! And just so you know, I live in a part of the country where it's perfectly acceptable to say y'all.

*It feels silly saying blogosphere, but when I used it on my boyfriend, he sniggered and said 'Blogosphere? Is it supposed to be spherical or something, little fucktard?' Yes babe, I'll miss you too!

Couldn't find a witty alliterative title, so fuck the title.

2006-12-07T19:39:00.000-05:00

Where are all those fabled last minute airfare deals?

And I fell for it. Hook, line and mofo'ing sinker.

Update: I will never comprehend why desi travel agents seem to take it upon themselves to dispense general life advice as they look for your tickets.

'Beta, you should've booked earlier, naa? We could've given you super rate, SUPER!
Now it's peak season, naa? So it's going to be VERY difficult for us. Next time, naa, please book your tickets in advance, okay beta?'

And,

'Oh, you DON'T want to buy a $3000 cattle-class ticket on Kazakh Airways? It's up to you. But you're not going to get a better ticket than that. You take my word for it. I even tried to get you that 16 hour long stopover at Almaty because they have EXCELLENT duty free shopping. It's mostly goat cheese, but I did that for YOU, because you're my valued customer. You're not going to get ANY tickets now, I can guarantee it!'

Yeah. She actually said she could guarantee it. I wish I'd taken her up on that offer. I'm very interested to see what such a guarantee would look like.

Yes, I DO happen to have some time on my hands this fine freezing Friday evening. Throwing large sticks into the frozen pond to check how frozen it REALLY is gets old after a while. Which works out well, because that's when frostbite sets in. All I really wanted was to make sure the pond was safe to ice skate on. Not that I was planning to ice skate on it, it was just a matter of satisfying the sort of intellectual curiosity that our society relies on for its progress, y'know, for things like electricity and PS3 and pizza topped with potato and hot sauce, which I personally consider one of the most important inventions of the modern age.

P.S. Apologies to the glorious nation of Kazakhstan. I know that Cohen dude made fun of you too, but it's just that Kazakhstan is a funny name for a place, rivaled only by Burkina Faso in funniness, which in turn is rivaled by its own capital, which, incidentally, is where my future job search might end up taking me.

Ougadougu to you too.

Update: Mommy MAY have just found me a ticket at a price I'd never pay. I love my mommy. And now, if things work out, all that remains is to hope that I have better luck than these people.

Jet Airways Rant

Flying Circus (NWA Rant)

And www.makemytrip.com is full of all manner of shit.

It's that time of the month, folks! Tag time!

2006-11-18T16:33:00.000-05:00

The Punkster will be happy to know that I have finally gotten around to doing her tag on how feminism has changed my life.

Just to make my position very clear, I'm starting off with the Wikipedia definition of feminism.

"Feminism is a diverse collection of social theories, political movements and moral philosophies, largely motivated by or concerned with the experiences of women. Most feminists are especially concerned with social, political and economic inequality between men and women (in the context of it being to the disadvantage of women); some have argued that gendered and sexed identities, such as "man" and "woman", are socially constructed. Feminists differ over the sources of inequality, how to attain equality, and the extent to which gender and gender-based identities should be questioned and critiqued. In simple terms, feminism is the belief in social, political and economic equality of the sexes, and the movement organised around the belief that gender should not be the pre-determinant factor shaping a person's social identity, or socio-political or economic rights."

I believe in social, political and economic equality of the sexes. I also believe that anyone else who does is merely sane. It's pretty intuitive to expect that women should have the same basic rights as men. And you don't have to be a feminist to be pissed off at how badly women are treated in Saudi Arabia. Any normal woman/man should be outraged.

I don't hate men. I don't blame men for any residual disparity that might still exist between the sexes. I don't believe that I am a victim of 'The Patriarchy'. And I certainly don't believe that gender is a social construct. Man-hating lunatics with victim complexes are every bit as stupid as Bible-thumping anti-abortionists who advocate turning the other cheek when abused by their dear husbands.

And most sane people, feminist or otherwise, do not espouse the above views. Which brings me to this: What's the sane alternative to feminism? There is none. So my reluctance to classify myself as a feminist really stems from semantics. You might call it feminism, whereas I just call it common sense.

It's exceedingly difficult to try to attribute societal changes to any driving force, be it feminism or the inevitable intellectual evolution of society. Here are five ways my life may have differed if it hadn't been for feminism.

1. Every career option is open to me. It would be a bummer if I wanted to be an archaeologist, but couldn't, just because of my sex. I often remind myself that this was a real problem in the first half of the twentieth century.

2. I don't have to dress like a man and look like a man to be taken seriously. And I'm not going to either. I don't have to sacrifice my femininity for a career in a male dominated field.

3. I can wear what I want, and expect not to get raped. Because legally, rape is rape, whether you're wearing a miniskirt or a burqa. This works in most civilized nations, at least in theory.

4. Better sex. Because when you realize that even good girls have sexual needs, it's easier to communicate your desires to your partner.

5. A free lunch for women in my rather male-dominated field of study, courtesy the department. Because women need to talk, and whining about girlstuff is not wholly appropriate conversation material in mixed company.

But there is a downside to it though. My advisor is new, and needed help with moving some equipment around. Naturally, he expected his grad students to help. The real reason that grad students exist is so they can legally do menial labor in exchange for a graduate stipend that's well below minimum wage.

So naturally, he expected me to carry as much as his two other students, male, and twice my size. And what's more interesting is that I would have been REALLY offended if he'd said, 'Oh, maybe you should just let us handle the heavy stuff.'! Yeah, thanks a lot, feminism, because my arms hurt so much that night that I seriously considered chopping them off.

And here's the part where I ask you for your opinion. Assuming you've heard Jack Straw's recent comments on the burqa, do you think that in a (relatively) free society, people should have the freedom to subjugate their women?

I've heard the argument that the veil doesn't oppress, it liberates. It's hard to see how exactly that works considering the fact that most countries/families that enforce the veil are also quite likely not to be shining examples of gender equality.

While it seems unconstitutional to deny a person the right to follow his/her religious edicts, is it alright to allow a family to pressurize their 16 year old daughter to cover herself up from head to toe?

And to those who choose not to wear the veil, are they seen as less chaste than those who do wear the veil? I believe the answer to that question is yes. So how voluntary is it, really, when your choices are to either to

a) wear the veil and be respected, or

b) don't wear the veil and be like 'those loose western women' who don't deserve respect anyway.

So, what do you think?

2006-11-12T00:06:00.000-05:00

I've decided I want a Ph.D.

Here are five of my top reasons.

5. Everyone else getting one these days.
4. I need a title to compensate for the fact that I'm not six feet tall.
3. The words Dr. Raindrop will lend credibility to my planned Cosmo article titled 'How not to make a complete fucking ass of yourself in bed',
subtitled 'Let's not forget the keys to those handcuffs, kiddies!'.
2. Heck, I can even use it to lend credibility to my arguments with my boyfriend. 'I have a Ph.D. and you don't. So I'm right and you suck!'
1. Everybody wants to do a woman with a Ph.D.

But apparently they don't give you a Ph.D. for sitting on your ass and being a shallow bitch. Fuckers! Now I'll have to choose some shitty topic like 'Are hunger pangs pangier when you're broke and living in a fairly decent sized third world city?'

P.S. Feminism post coming up next! Seriously.

DoW#6

2006-11-02T20:30:00.000-05:00

Never attempt a saltwater gargle immediately after a dinner of cheesy jalapeno potatoes and cereal.

-Raindrop, 2006 A.D.

Diamond of Wisdom #5

2006-11-02T19:23:00.000-05:00

In a blatant attempt to plagiarize from this man, I've decided to do my own little Diamond of Wisdom series.

(I own the man in question, so I just realized it's probably perfectly legal. To the curious: I own him because he offered himself to me. I'm not a cruel slave-owning bitch by nature, but he wanted it.)

So here's today's 40 carat stunner.

What numbs pain also numbs the imagination.
-Raindrop, 2006 AD

I'm referring to Ibuprofen 800mg, of course.

On a side note, why is it that Anna Nicole Smith looks so much better these days? To all you E! addicts who actually know the answer to that question, you should seriously consider getting a life. If you study Anna Nicole Smith's plastic surgery history, you've got to be at least slightly weird.

Coming soon: A feminism tag!

Raindrop needs answers and she needs them fast!

2006-10-24T23:56:00.000-04:00

Will somebody explain to me what that picture has to do with the Indiatimes auction? It makes no sense to me, and it just looks very creepy. And she's not even pretty. If you're the woman in that picture, I'm just saying that because I'm jealous that you get to be in an ad and I don't.

Back by popular demand!!

2006-10-18T20:25:00.000-04:00

I know some of you may not agree, but I think coffee can be fashioned into a meal. I usually like mine without cream (cream puts me to sleep rendering coffee useless), but on days when it's all the lunch I have time for, I get a latte. And then dump lots of creamer in it. And plenty of sugar because I need the energy. You'll never convince me that it's worse than McDonald's.

As some of you know, it's been a busy week. So here's a quick summary, and my take on it. Yes, like anyone cares about my life.

Coffee for lunch twice this week. Bad.
Four hours of sleep on average. Terrible.
Positive student evaluation of my teaching skills. Good.
Someone wrote 'HOT' in caps where it said 'What I liked about this TA'. Excellent.
Party at my house. Good.
J's friend didn't show up with weed. Bad.
Broke J's music system, and now have to buy her a new one. Terrible.
Ex came to visit. Excellent.
Blondeboy I made out with a month ago stared at me cozying up to my ex, and pointed and whispered in my general direction. Bad.
Got caught doing the Sudoku during a computer language workshop. Bad.
Claimed I was only doing the Sudoku because I wanted to create a Sudoku generator for my computer project. It worked. Excellent.
Missed a meeting yesterday. Bad.
Blogging when I should be working. Terrible. Ah, but it feels so good.
Ex is now ex ex. No comment.
Managed the time to watch a movie yesterday. Good.
Ex picked 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre'. He'll pay for it, the asshole. I couldn't even watch some of that shit. The only time I can stand to watch mindlessly graphic violence is when it's the victim's turn to get even.

Oh, I like trenchcoats. And guns. You scared already? But my only trenchcoat is pink! Yes, I just love flashing my Goth credentials.

Guess!

2006-10-10T00:23:00.000-04:00

It's been called the most appallingly crude film EVER made.

And I can't wait to see it.

So which film am I talking about?

Random Raindrop trivia: I need my men to be at least half a foot taller than me. You tall men rock, especially the ones that totally tower over me. It's indescribably hot! So I've decided that my mission for this month is to make out with a black guy. A basketball player, perhaps. Yummy..

Somehow, I'm just not attracted to East Asian men. Which reminds me of a funny story..

Now I'm not big on stereotypes, but the last time I was driven by a chinese dude, he had his girlfriend play navigator. They took turns looking back, and would exchange frenzied shouts, leading Jose* and me, sitting in the back, to believe that we were about to be hit by a very large truck. This happened about twenty times. We soon realized their shouts coincided with lane changes. They were terrified, I could see beads of sweat dripping down their faces. They later revealed to us that they missed exits very often not because they FORGOT to take the exits, but because they were too scared to switch lanes to GET to the exits. Now they're probably the nicest people alive, and they were very safe, but it was funny how completely TERRIFIED they were! Ah, I'll shut up here, lest this turns to MY driving. (Yes, asshole**, you're the best driver I know. I love how you make parallel parking seem so effortless!)

* Name changed on request. Well, not really, he doesn't know about my blog, nor do I want him to. But his name is as generically Mexican as Jose.

** Name not changed despite request. Asshole's a good name for him. The other names I had for him make him sick, now that it's over.

I've been a-tagged! Twice!

2006-09-26T22:22:00.000-04:00

I've been tagged by both Imhunt and Wishful Thinker . It's unorthodox, but I'm combining the tags.

Random facts about Raindrop you'd never have known if she hadn't been tagged. (Because, as you're no doubt aware, she just hates talking about herself.)

1. I'm straight in the female sense. What that means is that while I'm not attracted to women, I'm not repulsed (would I sound like a magnet if I said repelled?) by them either. And I'm very non-homophobic. (And the answer to the question you didn't ask is yes, I might.)

2. I don't have an instinctive sense of left and right. I need to mouth the word 'right'and the hand that comes up automatically is my right hand. That's how I tell.

3. I think I have a severe case of ADD. I get bored REALLY easily. (My earliest memory is of yawning. I'm dead serious.) I'm terrible with details. I can't be bothered cluttering my mind with information I consider completely irrelevant, like the clothes somebody wore the other day. I'd rather store random geographical trivia in my head, although it's probably just as useless.

4. I also get obsessed very easily. My present obsession is with Kimveer Gill. Here's a mirror of his main page. Here are his pics and his last blog entry.

I've been playing the song Nymphetamine over and over again, because I found it on his Vampire Freaks blog. I love the song/video. Yes, I'm closet goth. I'm back to my CoF/Tristania/Nightwish/Lacuna Coil/Blind Guardian phase.

5. I love potatoes. (No, that's not my dark secret, although it comes pretty close!)

6. I'm a dog person. I think cat people are psycho killers. Like kitten-loving Kimveer.

7. I want to

a)role play (in any sense of the world)
b)build a dollhouse (with curtains, paintings, furniture in miniature)
c)skydive, at least ONCE
d)get married to a superkinkytallgeniushottieatheistnonpsychokillerfreak, have his kids and live happily ever after. (Yeah, I'm a born rebel.)

8. Babies love me. They may be stupid dopeheads, but at least they're stupid dopeheads with taste.

Update: I tag Drunken Master, Mahima and Dodo. And everyone on my blogroll who hasn't done this tag.

Big apes do it better

2006-09-21T22:41:00.000-04:00

Warning: Explicit Content! My face is superimposed on a monkey's. It's possible that the monkey isn't wearing clothes, although you can't really tell from the pic. It might offend some of you.

You Tarzan, me insane.

I made that!:)

2006-09-20T20:53:00.000-04:00

I'm quitting academics and becoming a chef.

Also, I bumped into not-so-hot-dude in the library yesterday. It was weird.

Me: Hey! (My chirpiest tone, after I realized he'd seen me. Seen me see him, that is.)
S: Hey zere, I haf been so busy.
Me: Yeah, me too. Insanely busy!
S: Ja, very very busy.
Me: I know, gotta run now, I'm that busy!

So J, the flatmate, announced that it was time for us to host a party. I nodded enthusiastically. She then said she would HAVE to invite S, and asked if I wanted to put it off for a while. I rolled my eyes as if to say, yeah, like that day meant ANYTHING to me. Oh, she could invite him ANYTIME she wanted to. I'm SO TOTALLY cool with it! The other J suppressed a snigger. Funnily enough, the other J thinks S is cute! I just find dark-haired desi dudes far more attractive. Probably one of those cultural things.

Argh. I have to CODE for tomorrow! And I don't freakin' KNOW how to code! I have no problem with Hello World type programs, but sadly, this isn't one of those. And my only 'coding' experience comes from when I was 14, and passed encrypted notes to my friends during Civics. (Oh, this is from my civics book. 'India has a large population because sex is the only form of recreation for people living in rural areas'. That was the only interesting sentence in that whole book!')

My encrypted notes often had only two words in them. I'd go from alphabets to numbers with a direct substitution thingy. Then I'd convert those numbers to base 26, so I could use alphabets to cleverly disguise numbers, which were really just alphabets in disguise. Yes, I'm devious.

And yes, no one understood my notes. I'd end up giving them my message after class, VERBALLY, and my offers to explain my coding system were met with icy glares.

Yes, I was a freak.

I was such a math wannabe as a teenager! Like all good Indian kids, I read that famous Ramanujam/1729 story and tried to force myself to break random license plate numbers down into sums of cubes and squares. It was a huge effort for me, so I gave up in about a day. I also tried to teach myself calculus from good old Britannica at the age of thirteen because I read a spy thriller about a guy who had learned calculus at twelve. Didn't have too much success there either.

Oh, and in other news, I've found religion. Yes, Nath, you were right. God told me that if I couldn't get the damn code finished in two hours, I'd just have to quit school, marry, and cook awesome meals for my husband. And strive to be the perfect wife. To me, that would be a lot easier than coding. I love God. He really DOES have a plan.

Flouting the Ordnung

2006-09-16T15:05:00.000-04:00

My life just lost its Amish seal of approval last night. But give me a week or so and I'll be all Amish again.

I am definitely an exhibitionist (the events of last night are a testament to this), but I wonder how much of that is blog-induced. My blog was born from exhibitionism, and now it feeds it, making it stronger. The one recurring thought I had running through my head last night was, 'I just HAVE to blog this!'

Here's the gist of it anyway. I'm exercising tremendous restraint here, in not including the good bits! So enjoy my little story. Mom, if you're reading this, of COURSE I'm making all of this up!

Alcohol.

The words 'de donde eres' thrown at me. Me trying desperately to remember what that meant. An apology. 'Sorry, I thought you were latina'. My pathetic claim that I WAS latina, dammit. 'Porque yo hablo espanol! Si, si, hablo espanol! Pero no comprendo UNA PALABRA! I speak Spanish, damn you! I learned it for FOUR WHOLE WEEKS! But I just don't understand it, that's all!' And because sanity finally prevailed, I shut the hell up before I slipped into further denial about my knowledge of the language.

He wasn't hot, but I really didn't care. I knew his name but that's more than I needed to know. Dance floor. Flirting in a strange language, I was bored out of my mind. The ensuing madness. A few shocked stares. Still at it until I hear him say the word 'bed'. I beat a hasty retreat. Yup, the Amish kicked in right on time.

The only thing that embarrasses me is that I might have potentially made a few alcohol induced grammar mistakes while speaking not-so-hot-guy's language. I desperately hope I didn't!

P.S. If you're a science type, go to my other blog. It's brand new and it's cutting edge.

Update: Do people just sit around waiting for playground bullies to insult them, so they can go home crying to mommy? Mommy, he drew an insulting picture of me! Mommy, he was rude to me! Mommy, they don't want the ten commandments! But I WANT THEM on PUBLIC BUILDINGS, or else I'll FORGET them!! Mommy, Aerosmith put MY hero's picture on a CD cover! That's RUDE!

Kids, if I were your mommy, I'd give you all a hard spanking.

Babies are little adults on drugs.

2006-09-14T16:13:00.000-04:00

A few people I know have their very own poopmachines. Also known as babies. And these people, also known as proud parents, act like sprouting teeth is some kind of huge intellectual achievement.

It's not.

And if you've never been around a baby, here's a surprising fact about them.

They're unbelievably stupid.

Yeah, please don't give me that politically correct shit about their little brains developing. Their brains have plenty of time to develop while they're hogging their mothers' precious resources in the womb. Look at dogs and horses and other animals. They walk MINUTES after they're born! And humans are supposed to be SMARTER than them! Don't tell me that this has never struck you as being a tad odd?

Their dirty secret is drugs. Yes, wrap your diaper around THAT one.

I bet I'll have my kid reading Joyce and doing the cryptic crossword at three months, simply by blocking access to drugs.

Don't believe babies are on drugs? This little incident might help you see what I'm talking about. It's a true story, and it might shock some of you.

A proud mama once handed me her baby because she wanted to have a life for five minutes. I was holding the baby, so I decided I might as well engage it in some interesting conversation.

Hello, little baby.

*blank wide-eyed look*

My name is Raindrop. You have teeth and a tongue, your mom thinks you're some kind of genius. Say my name if you're that smart.

*gurgle*

Raindrop. Repeat after me. Rain-drop.

fa-fa.

What the hell is fa-fa?

*stupid smile*

Come on now, say my name. Rain-drop!

fa-fa.

fa-fa sounds NOTHING like my name you little shit. What have you been smoking?

goo-gaa.

You've been smoking goo-gaa? (I'm not familiar with that one, but this baby definitely knows its drugs.)

Look, kid. It's an easy name to say if you aren't on crack.

*tugs at my hair*

Oh, is that your idea of being cute? Let me tell you kid, that shit doesn't work in the real world.

*gurgly, almost giggly smile*

(Sighing) You're not even a year old, and you're already a dopehead. You, kid, are going to give your poor parents a lot of grief.

*flaps its arms wildly, laughing like a little maniac*

And this continued for a while. The poor little shit couldn't even say my name. I realize it was at an impressionable age, and all the other babies were doing it too. I tried hard not to be judgemental and preachy, but I do believe we're responsible for the choices we make. This baby had strayed. Hopefully not irrevocably though. Kindergarten is the baby version of rehab.

Are you still not convinced that babies are dopeheads? I have MORE proof, just for unbelievers such as yourself.

"Other signs and symptoms of drug abuse are dilated pupils, restlessness, hyperactivity, euphoria, slurred speech, disabled co-ordination, incontinence, decreased attention span, an irregular sleep pattern and impaired judgment. "

Do babies have dilated pupils? Yes. Have you ever seen the glazed looks on those little zombie faces?
Are they restless and hyperactive? Hell, yes.
Are they euphoric? Yes, and they laugh like maniacs.
Is their speech slurred? Baby speech is the epitome of slurred speech. They can't fucking talk.
Disabled co-ordination? Obviously, would you ever trust a baby to drive your car? NO! And have you seen them drool? Disgusting.
Incontinence? The diaper industry wouldn't exist if this weren't true!
Decreased attention span? Babies have the shortest attention spans ever. Try catching a baby do ANYTHING for over 5 minutes. Other than crying and sleeping.
Irregular sleep pattern? You know the answer to that if you've ever been around a baby. It's a resounding YES!
Impaired judgement? Even the idiots who ask Playboy for advice on life would not consider asking babies for advice. How many baby judges have you seen? Zero.

I strongly suspect it's in baby food/formula. So feed your baby Big Mac and McFries, because you can be sure there's no nasty shit in there.

P.S. Please, dear friends from college, I don't think your baby is smart at all, even if it just said its first word. Because 'gwynng' is not a word. It may be a Welsh word, but Welsh words don't count. And DO NOT send me pictures of your babies stuffing their faces, food messily splattered all over them. I don't want to hear about their toilet training escapades either. If I were ever in charge of a country, these are some of the things I would make taboo.

Some people might find all of that cute, but those people are usually put away before they can do themselves/others any real harm.

Babies pretty much come from sludge and ooze, live in sludge and ooze, and then make their own sludge and ooze.

'Nuff said.

Update: I'm a judgemental bitch who gets really annoyed when people mispronounce the French word 'forte'. It's one syllable, plain and simple. Fort-ay is wrong! If you want to be pretentious and impress people with your French, then at least get it right! Or just stick to English like the hoi polloi. The incorrect use of French personal pronouns is another thing that gets to me.

It's not pedantry at play here, folks. Anyone who uses a foreign word when an English word would suffice, is trying, on some level, to impress. You can pull it off by getting the word right, but by getting it wrong, you're fair game. You WILL be ridiculed.

2006-09-13T22:34:00.000-04:00

I was pleasantly surprised to find some of my old students in a class I'm teaching. Well, as a TA. I'm too sick of academics to ever want to become a professor.

I told them I might not be teaching their class starting next week because I have a schedule conflict. And I added that in the civilized world, we say SHEDYULE and not SKEJULE. They nodded gravely and said they remembered that, and the fact that I say aluminIum. And the fact that cricket is the only true sport, and baseball is just a cheap imitation. I was all choked up, proud that I had really taught these kids something.

And they, full of their usual does-flattery-get-me-extra-points shit, asked me if the person taking my place would be as awesome as I was.

Yeah, I definitely think they deserve those extra points.

I hear my flatmate talking on the phone, repeatedly shouting out the words, I LOVE DIET COKE! Must be code for something. Low fat cocaine? Nah, too obvious. She's a total little undergrad, she gets drunk every night of the week. Hooks up with total strangers at the bar. And half her friends are either single moms at 21, or getting sentenced to three days in prison for DUI. Oh, now she's talking about how she's going to die of an STD. Charming.

*sigh*

I miss those days.

Oh. Wait. I never HAD THOSE DAYS! Thank fucking heavens for THAT!

P.S. Yes, she's a wackjob, but I'm really quite fond of her. You know, kind of like Maria in the Sound of Music. Except there's a lot more drunkenness/sluttiness here. Ah, the joys of living with an undergrad..

2006-09-11T20:15:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I'm still stuck on the hugging thing. I miss Bangalore boy hugs. Their hugs are big, strong and manly, like the Bangalore boy who drinks lots of beer and listens/headbangs to a lot of metal. Bangalore boys don't hug boys. They hug women. Their hugs are VERY different from the delicate Latin embrace/cheek kiss.

Oh, but I don't miss air kissing at all. Who the fuck invented that??

I've always wondered why women feel the need to name their first borns (all in their heads, of course) the MOMENT they start dating a guy, even if they have NO intention of ever doing more than just fooling around with him.

So here comes my confession for the day. It's highly embarrassing, but I'm a masochist AND an exhibitionist, so obviously I've just got to make this public. I'm a last-name-trier. I meet a guy, and then I imagine how my first name would sound with his last name. I do it the same way I imagine how a jacket that I have no intention of buying would look on me. It means nothing at all. Seriously.

The ex and I are presently engaged in an argument about my height. I think the most accurate measure of my height comes from taking my flatmate's height, knocking off an inch because she tends to exaggerate ever so slightly, and then adding half an inch to that to account for the fact that I'm slightly taller than her. His method, clearly flawed, makes me .75 inches shorter than my method. It involves the use of a tape measure. How boringly unimaginative. How typically male. Oh, and in his words, height is relative. 'You're shorter than the Empire State Building, but you're taller than grass.'

I'm taller than grass, HAH! Up yours, grass! Well, most species(/phylae/whatthefuckever) of grass anyway.

Gotta love the dude.

Update: I've been asked by the ex to 'fix my blog without much ado' or I would 'lose my most important visitor', because he was quoted out of context. I agree, the Empire State Building comment was out of context, so I'm adding a disclaimer.

Disclaimer: Ex has been quoted out of context just to make my story more interesting. I can't help it, I lead a boring life. Men are my only source of amusement.

Another update: Ex thinks I still haven't 'fucking fixed it!' He wanted me to add context, so I'm adding context. He made the Empire State comment in response to my statement, 'I'm not THAT short!' Oh, that reminds me. Ex is really cute. Also one of the smartest men I know. If you're a really hot woman, give me a shout, and I'll try to set you up with him.

2006-09-10T02:03:00.000-04:00

If you're a hug slut, make Latin American friends. They might suddenly recoil after being told you're Indian, and then pretend that the embrace was really just a namaste gone horribly wrong. But that's only the first time.

2006-09-06T10:17:00.000-04:00

Germaine, just PLEASE shut the fuck up.

To all you pseudo-gourmet chefs

2006-09-03T13:30:00.000-04:00

GARLIC ROLLS

1 pkg. frozen dinner rolls, thawed
1/2 c. butter
Garlic to taste

Roll balls in garlic butter. Pour the rest of garlic butter over the rolls. Place in a bundt pan. Let rise double in size. Bake at 350 degrees until done.

This is NOT a freakin' recipe. If I wanted the easy way out, I'd just buy the damn garlic rolls, instead of buying dinner rolls and then coating them with garlic butter.

Because coating a dinner roll with garlic butter to make a GARLIC roll does NOT constitute cooking. It ranks right alongside stirring dehydrated vegetables and oil from a packet into an instant Thai meal, and then microwaving it for two minutes.

If you want to make, as in really make, garlic rolls, do it from freakin' scratch.

But PLEASE stop deluding yourself into believing that you have cooking skills.

Update: Why the FUCK do people say 'lengthy'?? What's wrong with the word 'long'? If you think lengthy is cooler than long, then you are REALLY fucked up.

Another terribly exciting day

2006-08-31T21:16:00.000-04:00

Cuteness (a.k.a. C, the ex) and I stayed up late chatting on messenger last night. I sort of miss that..

Cuteness sometimes reads my blog, so he asked me what deep, dark secret I was talking about. That's right, I have so many deep, dark secrets that it's hard for him to keep track sometimes. So I said to him, you know what secret! He was still clueless, so given how bad he is at reading my mind (men are such pigs!), I had to tell him. And he seemed umimpressed, like it wasn't nearly deep or dark enough to warrant secrecy. But he's like that, nothing really impresses him. If I told him I'd just 'killed someone, cut them up into a thousand pieces and then mixed those pieces in concrete and tossed that into a lake' (thanks Sriram), he'd just say, 'well, I'm just glad you didn't drive to the lake in MY car, because your stupid metallic purse would've scratched the door.' Okay, I'm exaggerating. Because he doesn't say 'well'.

And the other exciting thing I did today was clean. Well, mostly we just threw out old stuff. Stuff that previous residents hadn't bothered taking along with them. Like old pots, pans, grill cleaners (we don't HAVE a grill), wires, cords, boxes with no lids, lids with no boxes. Yes, how exciting. The new flatmates seem nice. We have another one moving into our 'cursed' bedroom tomorrow, it seems to attract the messiest, nastiest, most obnoxious bitches.

So flatmate one is out drinking with her buddy 'Drew:he's single, just putting it out there'.
Flatmate two is at a party hosted by some of her fellow countrymen, where they'll probably dance the samba and reminisce about Rio.
And I shall be staying home tonight.

Irishboy called just as I was about to hit the publish button. Party on Sunday with the mad euro crowd, and a particularly fun individual named Fay. (Friend of mine, on being told that Fay was gay: Fay! You mean Fay! Fay's gay?? Fay's not gay!! Fay's gay? Seriously? Fay's not gay! You're right, Fay's gay, he really IS gay. Wow, Fay's gay. I never would've guessed. Yes, he IS gay. It's pretty obvious now, coming to think of it. Yes, he's gay alright.)

Lots of good beer and drunken company.

Ah, Rio. And she dances on the sand..

What rhymes with stupid?

2006-08-29T21:37:00.000-04:00

Now there are some things about me that I would never reveal to anyone. Well, unless I were married to them or in a very serious relationship with them. Because some things are just too embarrassing to reveal to the world, sort of like admitting to writing Vogon poetry. But it's amazing how old friends can sometimes pick up on stuff like that.

An old friend guessed something about me that I always thought I hid very well. He said it wasn't obvious at all, but he had always strongly suspected it. Now I'm not telling anyone what it is, even if you ask REALLY nicely. You'd just laugh, and I'm not having that.

So anyway, in the spirit of revealing deep, dark secrets, here's some Vogon poetry. It's rather angsty, as you can see.

Gliddlebooped poopmeister shrooble
I blaggerwormed the woggleguzz
Krooptory. Measly krooptory!

Damn those wagglechests
Fookerfliggs on fleeglefests
Krooptory. Blasted krooptory!

But blizzling blaggleblazes
I wanted them smishtered
Sequestered and schlestered.

In that fabled fruzzled frunxning
As only quibbers flound, but failed.
T'was krooptory. Schneaving krooptory!

2006-08-29T00:21:00.000-04:00

Dschinghis Khan - Moskau (Ретро FM Live)

If it were up to me, I'd make it compulsory for schools and madrasas to sing trashy 80's music, and not this.

How can you not love the sheer flamboyance of that?

I have the best luck with men

2006-08-27T19:35:00.000-04:00

An old friend decided to set me up with a random guy. One of those friend of a friend of a friend, I'm sure you'll like him sort of things. And I was bored/curious enough to acquiesce. It's not like we were meeting or anything, so any possible awkwardness would begin and end on the internets, as the Prez sez.

Dude's an NY attorney. We talk on the phone. He seems interesting. We exchange pics. He isn't repulsive. He tells me his plans for the day, which include jet skiing. I ask where. He says, why, in my backyard, of course. He then asks if he's sent me a pic of his backyard yet. I said he hadn't, berating myself for overlooking this gross negligence on his part. I mean, you judge a dude by his backyard, right? How else would you know he was the one?

So he gets on his webcam. No, I don't have webcam, because that's like meeting for real, but with much worse lighting.

Proceeds to show me his backyard. I'll say this. It was one helluva backyard. I could see the boats/jet skis pass by.

So he invites me over for a vacation in NY. After all, we've known each other for how long, a full ten minutes already? I tell him that I'd love to, but I'd first need some evidence to the effect that he wasn't a psycho killer/stalker. (Other psychos I can deal with, and have been known to in the past.)

So he asks me to google him. I google him. I find he's passed the bar exam. Yay! And I find his cousin's blog, and his cousin happens to be living in my city. His cousin's this famous-ish ex-NYT now Reuters reporter who's roughing it in the third world. In my hometown, specifically. So I'm thinking, hmm, no way he can be a psycho killer/stalker if his cousin's a famous reporter living in MY city. I mean, that's just the logical conclusion that anyone would draw, right?

And then it happens. Webcam drops. Oops. Our NY attorney's not wearing pants. You sick people, of COURSE he was wearing shorts. Naturally, I express some shock. He apologizes profusely, says it's a mistake, he'd never have done a thing like that intentionally. And then, as if to prove his point, he reveals to me that he's submissive. Yes, in the S & M sort of way. I politely excuse myself and hang up before he gets into details.

*sigh*

Edit: On a completely unrelated note, I finally got around to watching the Pinker Spelke debate. In my very humble opinion, Pinker kicked Spelke's ass. Of course, I was biased to begin with. Spelke's suggestion that the SATs should be modified so men and women score equally well on math is ludicrous.

Also, in a previous post, I said I wouldn't date a baron. Well, I would if his last name were Cohen.

Edit 2: Hanging up after talking to my mom is becoming increasingly difficult. I heard my dogs barking in the background. They have no idea I still exist, but I know they'll be their usual waggy-tailed clingy selves when I go back home.

Another update: Appliances tend not to work when they're not plugged in. I learned this the hard way.

And another update: Upon re-reading this post, I felt the need to go back and move some commas around. Yes, I'm pedantic. And I also reserve the right to switch inexplicably between past and present tense. Because I don't believe in time. Time's just a myth the media wants us to believe in. And no, I'm not pedantic/anal enough to treat media as a plural word. Here's why.

Dear Visitors from Haloscan..

2006-08-25T11:45:00.000-04:00

I am honored that you've clicked on the link that says 'puke here'.

But please stay longer. Read my pointless ramblings. Browse my pics. Leave a comment or two. Tell me how much you love me. Tell me how much you hate me. Puke here, if that's your thing. But do stay. I'd offer you some orange herbal tea if I could do that electronically.

To everyone else who has no clue what I'm talking about, I used trusty Statcounter to find that my blog was getting a large number of hits from people entering via Haloscan. (Will somebody please explain to me what haloscan is, btw? I gather it's some sort of forum.)

Because somebody posted the following message on haloscan:

for Your Highness to puke on-

http://hotshortypartquarantedeux...x.blogspot.com/
Anon. | 08.24.06 - 11:41 pm | #

For obvious reasons, he/she/it chose to remain anonymous. Anyway, if any of you would like to improve your blog readership, just link your blog to some forum and ask His Highness to puke on it. I wish I'd thought of that before Anon.

Because it really does work wonders.

Update: I now know what the the Maanga is. Thanks for the tip-off, Nath.

Birds are evil.

2006-08-23T20:54:00.000-04:00

In a rare display of political correctness that I am sure you will appreciate, I have decided to use the biological name of the bird in question, because its common name might offend some (And I won't call you lily livered, far be it from me to make that judgement, but the rest of the world is less kind) people, owing to the unfortunate fact that it rhymes with what some might consider a VERY offensive word.

The bird, therefore, will henceforth be referred to only by its biological name, Aix Sponsa, so as not to cause mass offence.

Oh, and for those of you who are still wondering what that offensive word is, it's fuck.

And if you still don't know what bird I'm talking about, here's a picture.

Click here for a pic of an Aix Sponsa, that I DIDN'T take. Click where I say click here, if my template doesn't show that in a different color.

And to any kindergartners reading this, here's a helpful hint: They quack.

I hope that helps. And if you're a kindergartner reading this, I'll say this. You're smart. I couldn't read big words when I was three, although I did often allow myself to be seen with books titled 'Schopenhauer's shopping hours' and 'Wit against ein Wittgenstein'. This helped contribute to the idea that perhaps I was not so dull-witted after all. Also, if you are a kindergartner, please go away. Come back when you're old enough to shave. Or discover the wonderful world of Tampax. Because you shouldn't be reading some of this. Really.

And I won't be judgemental of any kindergartner who can't name this bird. Because I remember being acutely embarrassed about not knowing the difference between a tiger and a lion. I would walk around in mortal fear of anyone ever finding out my dirty little secret. This scared me more than the prospect of confronting a real tiger or lion. And people say three year olds don't have problems. Apparently, the fear of not being able to distinguish a lion from a tiger is quite common. My favorite ex suffered from this too. He'd vouch for it if not for the fact that he's sworn off my blog because he absolutely hates my new template.

So yes, back to the Aix Sponsa. I spent the better part of my afternoon trying to photograph it. It wasn't my easiest subject, let me tell you. It showed what can only be interpreted as the Aix Sponsa equivalent of tons of crappy ass attitude. It didn't have its agent present, so obviously, I considered it fair game. But it kept giving me that 'you'll be hearing from my lawyers' look.

Look, don't get me wrong. I like Aix Sponsa as a species, in general, despite the very annoying quack. But this one wasn't particularly good looking. I mean, it was more or less average. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to warrant that kind of attitude!

This wouldn't have been a big problem if I had had a decent camera. When I say decent, I merely mean a camera with the ability to capture a picture of say, a bird, without having the bird co-operate by flapping its wings in a very photographically appealing manner, and doing so at a distance of under four centimeters from the camera. And the trouble with most birds is that they don't do that. Some stupid bullshit about the survival instinct, apparently.

Obviously it's because they're stupid. They're bird brains. Get it? Bird brains. Hahah!

Anyway, Aix Sponsa and I had a conversation. I know Aix Sponsae don't speak English, not the ones I know anyway. But we still conversed using sign language. Okay, Ameslan, if you must know.

Look, Aix Sponsa, I said. I think you're quite charming. I'd like to take a picture of you, and then I'll be on my way.

Rude quack.

Aix, (because the first name approach sometimes works) you're really being quite paranoid. I don't normally discuss my food habits with birds, but I'm vegetarian. You really have nothing to fear.

Another rude quack, and the bloody thing swam across the pond.

So I walked over to the other side, and tried to reason with it.

Look, this camera. This not gun. I good. I no shoot.

Nothing.

I then considered doing an Aix Sponsa call, but decided that I'd just look stupid, so I opted for the more socially acceptable whistle instead. So I whistled at Aix.

Angry look from Aix. Aix is now swimming in circles, a safe distance away from me, in that typical, pointless, Aix fashion.

I attempt to take a picture, but alas, Aix is still too far. Aix decides to swim to the other side, again. So I walk around. Again.

It's clear to me by now that Aix is thoroughly enjoying this little game. We do this thing a few more times where he swims across to the other side of the pond, and I walk around it.

Then finally, in a dazzling show of cunning, I cleverly pretend to give up. I lie down on the grass at the edge of the pond, and wave a white piece of paper at Aix. I know he's watching. I resolutely resolve to stay absolutely still. And I manage it for fifteen full minutes. And finally, success. He's swimming towards me. I flash out my camera.

And the little bastard flies off before I can click.

Yes, I totally got fucked by an Aix Sponsa.

Polytheism is perfectly acceptable!

2006-08-22T13:32:00.000-04:00

My parents are followers of that polytheistic religion called Hinduism, so I'm often tagged a Hindu by people who don't know me well enough to know that I think religion is, to put it very unoriginally, the (insert drug of choice) of the masses.

So I've had to put up with loads of people telling me that polytheism is stupid. It's inferior to monotheism. And I've never really bothered trying to refute the claim, partly because I probably bought into it myself, given the historical progression from a mainly polytheistic world to one where monotheistic ideas became dominant.

Because it's easy to make the naive assumption that the further back you go in time, the stupider people were. To counter this, consider the heliocentric model of the solar system. The ancient indians, arabs, and certain greek scientists knew that the earth revolved around the sun. Go here for details. But the theory of heliocentrism was lost in obscurity, later on, in medieval Europe. When the debate was rekindled, the church stepped in and pushed the Ptolemaic idea that the sun revolved around the earth. Random waves of stupidity are quite common, even in eras where scientific thought generally progresses. Like the creationist wave. Because despite the existence of creationists, no one would argue that we're not making technological leaps.

So what are the other reasons that monotheism is regarded as being superior? Does monotheism provide a simpler power structure? Surely the idea of all the power in the universe residing in just ONE god is a far more primitive idea than a dynamical, extremely complex power structure! But you might disagree with me. And we could spend hours arguing about it, and sound as intelligent as two kindergartners (or fashion designers) arguing over the relative merits of the colors red and green. Red may be in this season, but that doesn't mean that green won't make a comeback eventually. (Who decides what colors are in, anyway? Do all the desingers have a secret conference in Milan or somewhere where they take a vote on what colors are in?)

The polytheism vs. monotheism argument is a pointless one in the first place. It's like two people arguing about how to misspell the word 'house'.

The misspelling of house is h-o-w-s-e.

No! It's h-o-w-s!

No, it's h-o-w-s-e! Because that's how Paris Hilton is misspelling it these days!

You get the idea.

Polytheist apologists annoy me. Why should you accept the idea that polytheism is a second rate belief system? All SANE countries allow you to practise any religion of your choosing. Nobody should have to put up with monotheistic arrogance. And stop making excuses for your polytheism. You can cry yourself hoarse about how all the gazillion gods are merely incarnations of one god. But why would you bother? STOP apologizing!

BECAUSE MONOTHEISM IS NOT BETTER THAN POLYTHEISM!

I once found myself in a debate with a friend over idol worship. Unaware of the fact that I'm one of those evil godless types, she says to me, you know, you polytheistic folk, you tend to worship idols a lot.

Like idol worship is a bad thing!

If I want to worship an idol, I will. If I want to worship my Barbie doll, I'll do that too! I'm well within my rights to do so, as long as I don't go blowing up planes and buildings in the process. (And by the way, people, blowing up stuff is just SO passe, so early 2000s! This is 2006, so try to get with the times?)

I'll worship a phallic stone in the mountains, a man on a cross, a stone in the desert, a cute puppy like this one, or a plastic bottle like this one if I want to.

And I won't apologize for picking one over the others, either. They're all equally cool. Or uncool.

A big pre-emptive FUCK YOU to anyone who disagrees with me.
A big pre-emptive FUCK YOU to anyone who's about to tell me I'm going to go to hell. I don't want to go to your stupid heaven anyway!
A big pre-emptive FUCK YOU to anyone who says that Indians are morally and culturally superior to, say, Americans.
A big pre-emptive FUCK YOU to anyone who says that Indians are morally and culturally inferior to, say, Americans.
A big pre-emptive FUCK YOU to anyone who tries to convince me of how some religions are inherently superior to others.
And finally, a big FUCK YOU to that bitch who lost my pink toy keys when I was two years old. That was my favourite toy! You ruined my life, and I will NEVER forgive you!

I dare to go u-less. Do you?

2006-08-20T16:28:00.000-04:00

Genius that I am, I FINALLY figured out why my template changes didn't take effect.

It's because I spelt colour with a u. And the good folk at blogger just don't take too kindly to that sort of thing.

All that is now changing though.

Because I'm officially dropping the u. It's just baggage from the British era that I can do without. And if I want baggage, I'm perfectly capable of supplying my own, thank you very much.

So here goes.

Color. Humor. Valor. Candor.

It sounds so wrong, and I feel naughty just typing that. Dropping the u is like going out topless!

I want to see how long this new u-lessness will last though. Just to show that I am dead serious about this, apart from going u-less, I'll also try really hard not to giggle when people say erb instead of herb. Because I could just never do that. Unless I'm doing a Cockney accent.

Note: I swear I know more words than that. I just happen to think four words are perfectly adequate in order to get the idea across without giving the impression that I'm out to impress with my jaw-dropping vocabulary. I'm not really given to sesquipedalianism.

2006-08-17T20:11:00.000-04:00

I'm in one of those moods. I want to offend. I want to titillate. I want to shock.

I want to be wild, whimsical, wanton. I want to be me.

But..

I am my own censor. It's the unfortunate truth.

I live a lie.

Monkeyin' around wid Ali G.

2006-08-11T15:07:00.000-04:00

Kent Hovind, you are a GENIUS. When you try to rubbish evolution by saying that it's pure religion, what exactly do you mean?

Just to see if I got this straight..

If something is pure religion then it's plain old garden variety bullshit, but if it ISN'T pure religion, i.e., it's impure religion, then it's an acceptable belief system?

Either way, you'd have to believe you're going to hell.

You probably never knew this, but monkeys have human babies all the time, but there's a massive conspiracy to cover it up just to make creationists look stupid.

Whoa! 12th richest? Let's party!

2006-08-05T13:07:00.000-04:00

So India is the 12th wealthiest nation in the world.

Yes, that's what the headlines screamed.

Awesome.

But keep your shirt on and think about it for a second, will you? Why did that make headlines?

Because it shouldn't have. With the second largest population in the world, being ranked 12 is hardly an achievement. I'm sure wealthy Luxembourg isn't too concerned about being ranked 64 on that list.

Because little Luxembourg is ranked 4 on the Human Development Index. And India? 127. Of 181 nations.

So please excuse me if I don't seem too enthusiastic about patting my nation on the back each time it takes another sluggish little baby step.

I'll celebrate when the number of Indians living below the national poverty line is halved to about 150 million.

Yes, that's when I'll celebrate.

Pic: http://www.samgoeswalkies.com/

Data: World Bank, Wikipedia

The man and his machine.

2006-08-01T23:06:00.000-04:00

G has started opening the car door for me.

No, I'm not delusional. Because I know it's not chivalry or a change of heart on his part. He's still a mannerless ass and we still hate each other in our usual affectionate sort of way.

He just bought a new car, that's all.

He's scared I'll scratch the door with my nails. He gives me dirty looks when I lean against it. Because I'm not supposed to make any kind of contact with it whatsoever. I'm pretty sure he believes that it's made of anti-matter that will annihilate when it comes into contact with matter. Or anti-anti-matter. Which is matter again.

He's completely fucking anal, but in his defense, there are people out there who are MORE anal.

What's the deal with dudes and cars anyway?

Why do bloggers blog?

2006-07-21T11:14:00.000-04:00

Hmm. Why do I only update my blog when I have finals to study for?

Is this a widespread phenomenon? Or am I the only one afflicted? Why do you blog? Is it an attempt at procrastination? Or are you just an exhibitionist? Or is it both?

Does anyone know?

Hadschi Halef Omar

2006-07-21T11:02:00.000-04:00

Sie zogen durch das wilde Kurdistan,
zwei, die dem Tod schon oft ins Auge sah'n.
Sie ritten Seite an Seite, waren Freunde für's Leben.
Hadschi hieß der kleine Mann, sein Herr war Kara Ben Nemsi.
Sein Turban, der war viel zu groß für ihn,
sein Pferd sah aus, als könnte es kaum noch geh'n.
Doch wenn er kämpfte, ist allen schnell das Lachen vergangen.
Denn er war ein Mann, ein Mann, ein Mann!

Hah hah hah, Hadschi Halef Omar,
Hah hah hah, Hadschi Halef Omar Ben,
Hah hah hah, Hadschi Halef Omar Ben,
Hadschi Dawud al Gossarah, ah hah,
Hah hah hah hah hah hah.

Hadschi Halef Omar Ben,
Hadschi Abul Abbas-ibn,
Hadschi Dawud al Gossarah, ah hah
Ah hah.

My plants are better behaved than your brats.

2006-07-21T09:23:00.000-04:00

I'm responsible for two life-forms. They aren't dead yet, ergo, I'm a good parent. My life forms are a chilli plant and a pepper plant. They're cute and cuddly and I buy them chew toys, little dolls and toy trucks. I don't want to perpetuate sexist or speciesist social conditioning, hence the dolls AND trucks AND chew toys.

Parenting is EASY. Don't be fooled by parents (of humans) who will tell you otherwise.

Dogs are easier to care for than plants. They wag their tails in your face and drool at your lunch so often that it's impossible to forget to feed them.

Kids are easier still. They just cry and wail when they want something. All humans instinctively protect tiny little humans with big eyes and big faces. If we didn't feel this need to protect them, we'd never let them survive to adulthood.

Because despite genetic programming and the parenting instinct (and it's an instinct, just like the rape instinct and the murdering instinct), kids can be REALLY annoying. If you've ever watched MTV's Sweet Sixteen, you'll know what I'm talking about. G, I know you're with me on this one. The little bitch couldn't tell a BMW 330xi from a 330i. Neither can I, but no one ever gave ME one on MY sixteenth birthday.

So to summarize, it works like this:- the higher the life-form, the more capable it is of taking care of its own survival. And the closer the DNA match, the more likely it is that you'll develop one of those oxytocin based bonds.

So don't let people give you the old self-righteous spiel on how noble it is to be a parent. The annoying fly you just swatted an hour ago was a GREAT mom to her bonny buzzy baby fly. Maybe she was going to bake it a birthday cake to celebrate the fact that it survived a full hour. But we'll never know, becaue you went and killed this noble parent.

But wait, that sounded completely absurd! Because we all know that there's nothing noble about being a fly! Flies are pests. Whether they're parents or not.

And if you REALLY think about it, humans are pests too.

My plant didn't complain when I ate its first born, a healthy green chilli. Now THAT's what I call noble.

The interpretation of dreams.

2006-07-05T20:15:00.000-04:00

I have a theory about dreams.

You never dream about something you've been thinking about a whole lot. You dream about images or ideas your mind's been toying with briefly. An idea that doesn't quite feature in your mainstream thoughts gets the attention it deserves in a dream.

I know someone who will claim that this is his idea and not mine. Well, he's lying. Anyway, I blogged about it first.

Edit: I'm (mentally) filing this under 'Theories shot to hell'. I thought about beating up my roommate all day, and then beat her up in my dream that night.

My favourite pair of shoes.

2006-07-04T18:01:00.000-04:00

Me
Originally uploaded by thousand.words.

I just love those shoes.

Edit: Picture credits to G, a.k.a. 'the ex'.

Ooh, look at me, I'm so smart! I have an opinion on everything!

2006-07-03T22:44:00.000-04:00

Balls. I don't.

However, some people do. And they proudly proclaim it on their blogs.

These are some actual examples of retarded opinions. I kid you not.

So what's your opinion on global warming?
It, like, TOTALLY sucks!
Who do you think should win this Switzerland-Korea match?
Switzerland, because it's beautiful.

I, for one, have had it with opinions like that. Here's something to keep you busy if you're bored. Put an end to this whole opinion bullshit. The world is what it is regardless of your stupid opinion. Nobody REALLY cares what you think. So the next time you encounter the word 'or' in a sentence, just ignore it. Unless it's a waiter at a restaurant, or someone asking you if you're paying with a credit or debit card. Some examples for the more dim-witted among you, to help solidify the concept.

Roe or Wade? (Unacceptable question, begs an opinion. Don't let the opinion-wanting bastards win!)
Wade if the water's shallow enough. Roe if you've got a boat. Hah!
Feminism or Ann Coulter? (Same as above)
I don't care, I'm hungry.
Top of the food chain or vegan? (Same as above)
Fuck off. Seriously.
Beer or Bloody Mary? (This one's perfectly legit.)
Bloody Mary.

The bitch isn't warm-blooded.

2006-07-03T18:22:00.000-04:00

So what exactly IS room temperature? Between 20 C and 25 C, most people would say. That's how most science books define room temperature. Then WHY is the temperature in MY fucking apartment 18 C?

It's because my roommate is a bitch. And clearly, she knows squat about science.

Desperately seeking someone!

2006-07-02T21:14:00.000-04:00

Yes, all you hot men out there with castles and titles and billions in the bank. I'm single! Grab me (figuratively, of course. um, maybe not ENTIRELY figuratively..) while you still can!

I'm hot, mostly harmless, slightly shallow, and have a three digit IQ(!).

I'm open to minor royalty. I might deign to date a viscount, but even I, bonafide egalitarian, supporter of the underdog, sympathizer of the masses; draw the line at barons. Unless they have EXCEPTIONALLY hot abs.

Prince Carl Philip, are you listening?

Hot shorty in blogland!

2006-07-02T20:49:00.000-04:00

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I have arrived.