Of Blogs and Oranges..

Yeah, so we have a slight chicken-and-egg situation happening on his blog. Turns out that while Thomas Alva Edison was no doubt a great man, he didn’t invent electricity. Just the light bulb. Apparently, James Watts-his-name invented the steam engine, which led to Michael Faraday inventing the Faraday (no wait, that’s just a unit named after him) or something and then Edison finally invented the bulb. At least, that’s what the Boy had to say. Bah, humbug. Why do I need to know this anyway?

So for everyone who missed me (you missed me, right? Right? RIGHT?):
1) I’m back from Delhi! Yes yes, you can now rejoice.
2) I missed you too!

My vacation was brilliant at that – two weeks of doing nothing but chillin’ (you didn’t really expect me to toast my skin in the sun, didja?) and catching up with my reading. Still, I do think my brain is rather fried all the same.

Here’s why. I was having a conversation with the Boy the other day and this is what it went like:
Me: “Why did the chicken take 20 years to cross the road?” (The answer I was expecting was – because he refused to stop and ask for directions. Lame joke? well then, just wait for his reply.)
Boy: “Because maybe the chicken was travelling at the speed of light and the road was 20 light years in width.” I’m not kidding, those were his exact more-or-less words.
Me: “Ha ha. You think you’re so funny, do you? But if I wanted to talk to a bulb (on acount of how smart people have a bulb go off over their heads when they come up with something smart,) I’d call Albert Einstein!”
Boy: “Albert Einstein?”
Me: Yes Albert Einstein. Are you not listening to me?”
Boy: “Oh, you mean because he came up with the theory of relativity and light?”
Me: “No silly, because he invented the bulb! No stop acting like a dim little tubelight.”
Boy: *Silence*
Me: ”No wait, didn’t Thomas Alva Edison invent the bulb and electricity?”

Arrgh. What is wrong with me? I used to know that! And why am I posting this tripe anyway?
 

This is a rave. And a rant. And any other name you might want to give to the activity where somebody’s jumping up and down on the spot, clenching her fists and screaming with rage. So seriously, things are so bad that I wish I had rage issues, just so I could pull a Rachel Bilson and say, “Don’t mess with me, Cohen, I have rage blackouts.” Okay, I’m calm. I’m taking deep breaths. But to those of you who’re still reading this, could you please, for the love of God and all things sane, tell me how to get rid of those incredibly annoying telemarketers!
My current phone number used to be my Mom’s before I got it. You see, I’d lost my phone (yet again!) and I was using her phone temporarily, but she kept using her work phone so I decided to keep this one. Big mistake. Stupid Citibank people keep calling for her. Fine. You didn’t know about the new number. I get it. I politely give you the new number, a whole of 344534 times. But you call again. And again. And again and again while I’m trying to keep my cool at work and bother me with questions like, “Is this Mrs Gupta?” No, you fucking retards, like I told you a million times before, this is not Mrs Gupta! This is her DAUGHTER. The person you call and harass a million times a day, remember?
So one day I got really pissed off and told them to actually USE their extensive database which tells them to call me at the exact time I’m having a bath/ in the middle of a phone call/ doing work, and change the Goddamn number. And they listen to me go on and on and you know what they say? “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, Ms Gupta.” What the fuck? Stop being sorry for the bloody inconvenience and do something about it!
And to make matters worse is JustDial. I call them occasionally for numbers that I need, right? And every time they ask me for my details and I very obligingly give it to them. Sure, you need to expand your database. Before giving me the number, they ask me if I want an instant SMS or an email notification, and I say no thank you, just give me the number instead. But you know what – I still get the messages and emails! And when I ask them why they don’t take note of me telling them I don’t want a notification, they say that’s just the way the system is. Again, what the fuck? What is the bloody point of wasting your breath asking me what I want (or don’t, in this case) and then doing whatever the fuck you want anyway?
Aarrghh… I’m so pissed off I could scream! Oh wait, I think I’ve done that already…
 

American Idol is the news these days, and how! First with AI reject Jennifer Hudson basking in the glory of her Oscar for Best Supporting Actress (I wonder how much of her glow can be attributed to smugness though. It’s not many people who get the best of Simon Cowell!) And then for the huge ‘Down with Sanjaya’ thingy that’s making headlines (jeez! What has the news come to?) over the world.
I think the season where Carrie Underwood won AI was the last one I followed avidly. Seriously, I was like an AI junkie; no one in the house dared to talk to me or even drop a pin when I was watching. I must admit, a lot of my craziness was ‘cuz of the incredibly hot Constantine Maro-something. I pretty much lost interest in the show after that, although I do watch snippets here and there if nothing else catches my fancy. (My current obsession is Hannah ‘look at me hamming it for the camera’ Montana. Just so you know…)
This time around though, I don’t think I can avoid AI if I tried. Whenever I log onto MSN or Yahoo or something, there’s always something or the other about AI and Sanjaya scrolling along the bottom of my screen. MY GOD! People need to get lives, I tell you! For a nation that’s quite ruthlessly and egotistically plundering all the world’s resources and painting the world in red, blue and white, the Americans are obsessively well, obsessed with Sanjaya – some of them love, some of ‘em don’t, but they just can’t stop talking about him.
His looks and his voice aren’t stellar by any means, but they aren’t spleen-tearingly bad either. In my opinion, this year’s Idols are mediocre at best, and this is something that shines through after watching just five minutes of the show. Sanjaya might not be that good, but none of them are. Maybe he was chosen because he’s brown, because he’s an underdog, or because of sheer talent (with competitions swinging the way they are these days, one can never tell!)
Anyway, I don’t know what everyone is complaining about. Simon’s threatening to give AI a skip next year if Sanjaya gets crowned, but dude! You were one of the three jackasses who chose him in the first place. And as for the American populace – if you don’t like him, don’t vote for him. Simple. Starving yourself to get him kicked out is just a pathetic excuse on your part to get rid of that baby fat by taking to anorexia. You want someone else to win, vote for them. A couple cents here and there won’t kill you. If anything, you’ll be spending that much less on cheeseburgers, and let’s admit it, the cows you eat have nothing on you in terms of weight.
So what am I beating around the bush for and trying to say? If your favourites get voted out instead of Sanjaya, it means more people like him than hate him. Either that, or his fans are rake thin already and are spending their allowance on voting for him.
In the end though, the producers of AI must be laughing their way to the bank. Their marketing gimmick has really paid off. After all, they had me going on and on and on about AI for the last 8534070 pages, no?

What you are about to read is a true story. And all the humour comes (for once) not at my expense but at that of the extremely adept (your first indication of any sarcasm in this blog!) police force.
Boy and I had spent a looooooong day taking pictures of a number of products for JLT. 34957895 pictures later, Boy was somewhat satisfied with his efforts (although I think he’s a better photographer than he gives himself credit for) and we called it a day. Boy decided to walk me home. Now let the record state that I’m no good at photography, which is why I love taking pictures of random trees in shadow and passing them off as works of art. Anyway, so it was twilight and I was taking pictures of and around the Parsi Gate at Breach Candy, when we were approached by the officer of a certain consulate in the region.
He told us that taking any pictures of the consulate was forbidden and since we were seen taking pictures in the area, they needed to check our cameras. Whichever snaps were ‘compromising security’ in his opinion were deleted. Then he asked us to give him the following details – name, address, passport number and so on. Well, Boy declined on the grounds that being Indian citizens, we’re not entitled to show our passport or our passport numbers to anyone. After all, we were just taking some f***ing pictures… we weren’t killing anyone!
After a couple minutes argument, we were taken to see the police in charge at the consulate. Amid a heated discussion about the Constitution and our right to the pertinent information regarding the whole procedure, we gave all our contact details. Some more Marathi later (I don’t understand one word of it!) they wanted our photographs for their internal database. Wtf? So Boy was taking care of it, when my Mom called, all hysterical about where I was. I tried cutting the call, but she got even more frantic and when I told her what happened, she was there faster than I could say well, anything!
Boy and me were talking things out with the cops when my Mom came into the scene, all guns blazing, with a shoot-now-talk-later attitude. She screamed at every person there, officer or not – how dare they question her baby like an ordinary criminal? – and she got me and Boy out of there. Then Dad came onto the picture and diffused the situation a little. He couldn’t do anything about my Mom though. Oh no! She screamed at the two of us – “Why didn’t you call me before? We could have helped you! We live just down the road! You’ll are such fools!” and so on. I was quite alright before, but seeing Mum so panicky really got me all worked up. And poor Boy! He’s never dealt with my mother before and this is not how I’d wanted to do the introductions!
Anyway, everything was quite alright in the end. But my point is how dare we be asked for our passports in our own country? Digressing a little, at dinner my brother was studying for a Civics test and he was trying very hard to learn up the exact words of the Preamble to the Constitution. But of what use is that when hardly any people are aware about their rights to begin with? I never knew about the whole passport thing; Boy had told me about it. What good is remembering the first line of the Preamble when most of us are unaware about our basic rights?
So anyway, back to the point. I’m glad that the police are taking an active role in security. I really am. But why only for the consulate? Why not for the stations and bus stops and other public places? Maybe there’s a whole chapter on International Diplomacy that I’m missing out on. Maybe I’m not educated enough about the situation to comment on it. But hey, everyone’s entitled to their opinions… at least for now!

Yes everyone, my exams are finally FINALLY over! Just in case the headline wasn’t incredibly and painfully obvious. But then I’ve been known to state the obvious more often than not, so no harm done. My exams have stretched on from the 23rd of Feb to the 8th of March though (thanks so some fucked up exam scheduling!) so grab a stool, sit down and let me update you on my life thus far, alright?

1) Gave my Economics paper on the 23rd. Messed up like 3/ 10th (my IMS professor would be so proud right now) of my paper. Whee! What a brilliant start! And to make matters worse, I messed up my very next paper, which was Advertising.

2) Flitted in and out of the office at random. Not because I’m a workaholic no. Then why? Just Like That. Sorry. Considering that everyone thinks that’s the best opening line to use simply because I work at JLT, I thought I might give it a shot too!

3) Ate in the college canteen a total of like, 20 times. So apparently a cheese paneer dosa and a Chinese dosa are one and the same thing. Hmm… I can totally see the connection. Not. But they both got puked out the same so it didn’t really make a difference…

4) Have slowly but quite steadily become addicted to Takeshi’s Castle. That show is just too funny! I know it’s not really nice to see people fall off surfboards floating 20 feet in the air or to throw themselves at random velcro strips, but if you watch the show, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Btw, did you know you need to do something 19 times before it becomes a habit?

5) Spent three hours before my Business Law paper playing Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban. What I can tell you, I love the game! I’ve played it a couple of times before and it’s just great. Specially the part where you have to find the secrets and all. I hate to be so immodest, but I gotta tell you, I can kick anyone’s ass at the game. Care to try me?

6) Discovered the brilliance that is the shopping at Colaba Causeway. Sure I’ve shopped gone there for food, food and random bits of trinket shopping, but they have some awesome clothes too! And at throwaway prices! And you can bargain them down further! I know I sound more than a little enthralled, but wouldn’t you be if you bought a lovely turquoise T-shirt with butterflies on it at a lesser amount than what you spent for lunch? I mean, how cool is that, man?

7) Spent an hour everyday between 3 and 4 in the afternoon watching first Tom & Jerry Kids and then Tom & Jerry. And I absolutely hate the former but the lack of good programming on TV leaves me with little choice. I mean come on, we get Fashion House and The Young And The Restless. And The Bold And The Beautiful. And Baywatch. And General Hospital. And the K-serials. Oh God, kill me now! With a blunt fork if you must.

8) Got tired updating the blog and decided to go out and celebrate my freedom instead! *runs away now*

Another winter day has come and gone away… So not really but when you consider that I had the most mind-numbingly, brain-searingly boring weekend, you really can’t blame me for singing random Michael Buble songs. Although let the record state that all I’ve heard of him is the snatches of the concert that Star World insists on telecasting once a month. This has the makings of an infamous tangent so let me just get back to the weekend then.

Saturday: I got woken up at 8 am by Boy. But then again, who can blame him? Most people DO get up that early on Saturday mornings. It’s not like they have anything better to do. (Did I lay on the sarcasm too thick?) Anyhoo, I couldn’t get sleep once I was up and began to study the Issue and Foreiture of Shares. Whoever said the life of a BCom student is easy was either on crack or really over-estimated our intelligence. Then in the evening I went for my CAT training thingamajig. Spent two fucking hours learning the usage of ‘a’, ‘an’ and ‘the’. ‘Cuz me no know that, do I?

Sunday: My day to sleep in. I wish! I had to get up at 8 (again) to go for the CAT thingamajig. This after going to bed at 3-effing-30 the night before! And to top it off, the class lasted 5 Hours! 5 hours! And this is the score of what happened:
 Nodded off in class: 323593034707 times
Lamented over the lack of good-looking men in class: 678407034 times
Winced in protest over mistreatment of ass: 5865406502390569236 times.

Yup, that’s it. My amazing weekend. I sincerely hope yours was as bad as mine. You know how misery loves company. So now I’m off to make amends for that weekend by stuffing my face with chocolates. Buh bye now!

PS: Oh, and did I forget to mention that I have exams beginning on the 23rd of Feb? Which as of now, is tomorrow! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” said Superman’s dad (was his name Kryptonite?) in er… Superman. I don’t really know; after all, who pays attention to the plot when you have a hot man in Spandex proudly presenting himself to the world on the silver screen, hmm?

Anyway, before I go off on a tangent altogether (I’m incredibly prone to doing that) let me get right to the point. I have a super-power. Is is a boon or a bane - now that is the million-dollar question. Are you ready to hear it? Well… *takes deep breath* here it goes – I have the ability to blind people. Not with the handy pepper spray in my bag no, but with my choice of clothing. Or so Boy likes to complain *pauses for a moment to garner sympathy* I ask you, is there anything wrong with turquoise blue pants and hot pink T-shirts? I think not!

Anyway, that was my second and last rant. Of the day that is. The point I REALLY wanted to make was about the Kala Ghoda festival. Considering that I ‘ve lived in South Mumbai all my life, it’s a little strange that I’d never bothered going down for a look, but that’s me. Curiousity killing the cat and all that. So anyhoo, I paid the place a debut visit last night, and I have to admit, I was speechless (for quite possibly the first time in my life.) The street loooked just stunning, all lit up with pretty lanterns and pennants. It really seemed like I wasn’t in Mumbai anymore, but in Bombay of yore, when people actually had the time to just stop and smell the carnations (I’m not overtly fond of roses!) (This is not a hint to anyone, and that includes you, Boy!)

There were stalls selling a lot of ethnic stuff which will probably collect dust in your house like the biggest f***ing white elephant alive (or be totally otiose, as Tanmay would say), and being the magpie that I am, I was drawn to the brightest objects first. There were a lot of home accessories and abstract art and shit like that, and while I didn’t really buy anything, it made me happy just looking at it – all those pwetty colours and the dim lights - a flashback to the age where romanticism and chivalry was still alive, when magic would enter your blood and making it sing, when you could just close your eyes and let the heady sensation overcome you, when the world was as roseate as you were… I could just go on! I don’t really know why… it’s just nice to walk on a street in Mumbai without getting almost run over.

Now that one mission (the blog one) is down, I’ve decided to embark on a new one. To go back to the Kala Ghoda festival with:
1) A fuller wallet
2) A camera
3) Boy – just so he can see that my taste in clothing is actually very earthy as compared to others.

Okay, so now I’m done with my free publicity quota of the day. So bye!

PS: I just went back today; rather crowded. I did get a little bottle of bubbles though. And a tummy ache from really bad momos.

If you’re reading this, you’re quite obviously on my blog. And I swear, I
had absolutely nothing to do with the hitmen who broke into your homes and forced you to log on at gunpoint. Nope. Nope. I’m innocent, I tell you! Damn it, does no one believe me anymore? *looks incredibly wounded* So while I’m telling you stuff, let me tell you about myself as well. My
name is Kanika (Girl, in case you didn’t get that,) I’m studying in SYBCom and I’m working at this really cool magazine called JLT. Pick it up sometime!

Good. So now that the formal introductions are over, let’s get on with it.
This is the first blog entry I’ve ever written. I’m not exactly what you
might call a tech-savvy person. I know how to type and surf the net (and of
course, put the comp on and off) and that’s always been enough for me.
Anything else that needed to be done was done either by smiling sweetly at
people or twisting their arms (thank God for puny friends!) Bribing would be
easier, but oh well… Anyway, I happened to chance upon a blog some time
back and I was highly inspired to write one myself. And I mean really
motivated, not like the times when I promised myself to learn how to cook
and salsa. As it stands now, I can microwave popcorn without blowing it up
and salsa is best had with my chips. But the blog… I stuck to it and
voila! One year later I’m here! So what if I’m a little overdue? Better late
than never right?
So just for the record, I would like to state that I really wanted to call
this blog ‘Blogs and Oranges and no Grapes’. Why? This conversation between
er… Boy( who happens to know the difference between RSS field and feed and router and touter… isn’t he brilliant?) and me should enlighten you:

Boy: Yak yak yak… blog… blah blah blah… blog…
Me (pouting and in whiney voice): I waaaaaaaaaaaaaant blog! I
waaaaaaaaaaaaant!
Boy: Well, we’ll…
Me (brightening up): Ooh! Lookit! Oranges! I want!
Boy (bewildered): But the blog…
Me (distracted yet again by the fruit bowl): Yum! Grapes! I want grapes!
Boy (puzzled even further, the poor dear!): But what about the oran…
Me (coughing): Damn grapes! Caught my throat! No grapes. No grapes!
Boy (gives up and stays silent): *Nothing*

So that’s it. See how that name came about? Some might argue that it’s
rather er… simplistic (people may have said stupid but I have selective
hearing… at such a young age too. Sad isn’t it?) but sometimes it’s best
not to over-analyse things, yesno?

So anyway, I’m off to the chiropractor now. Patting yourself on the back
ain’t as easy as you think!