Trippy

For Tripathi

May you remain forever yummy.

Trippy the frog hopped around, following a trail of biscuit crumbs. She hopped some more and found herself in a gigantic white hall with glistening silverware displayed grandly on the smooth marble slabs. "Wherever have I stumbled upon?" thought Trippy the frog. And out of the vast skies came a massive steel apparatus and scooped her high up into the clouds. Trippy was panicking and finding it difficult to even breathe. She was then plunged through a mist into a pool of warm water. "Ah spa!" she was relieved. But as the temperature of the water soared higher, Trippy the frog knew something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. And then Trippy was thrown into a whirlpool of pure, black darkness. Her eyes remained open, fixed eternally onto a lump of butter... the butter that would soon smother her, stifling her voiceless cries.

Jog Hog Blog

I am not an exercise type of person. And that is an understatement. I have been blessed with some strange kind of metabolism, which has kept me skinny throughout my life, regardless of how many doughnuts I devour. In fact, the last ten years or so have been spent in attempting to put on some flab. Which did eventually happen, but not uniformly. In a nutshell, I pretty much ended up looking like a pregnant teen.

So after two decades, I resorted to .. exercise. And thus I bought new sport shoes, track pants and prepared to rocket past everybody in the park. It started out great but would always ended up as just another stroll in the park. So much so that one day I felt myself falling behind the most ancient man there ever was. Flabbergasted, I trudged on day after day. But my food baby was thriving fabulously. What was I doing wrong? Could it perhaps be the sausages and eggs I would crash upon after returning from a jog? And here I thought I was compensating for lost nutrients :O

Sooo I attempted to control my diet, much to the horror of fat people. "You'll disappear!" is one thing I've been hearing ever since the age of 10. Eleven years later, I'm still here, so I think I can stop worrying about going extinct. Anyway, abstaining from brownies and fried chicken was pretty much the worst feeling in the world so I gave up on it. Conclusion: Jelly Belly = oh no! No jelly + No jelly belly = the end of life itself !


And thus emerged the Jog Hog.

The Devil Swears Nada

"An idle mind is the devil's workshop"
(Pretty much defines this entire blog)

Thinking individuals- something we all strive to become. But some of us never do reach that stage. I have to admit I would probably be part of that minority. I am not suggesting that I have a constant blank in my head- far from it- I am currently thinking about the perfect pair of black shoes, the salmon I had for breakfast, the smell of coffee beans, my dog curled up on his mattress, some of my friends, the approaching sweat-filled summer, college, internship, love, hate, stupidity, you get my point...

But much like we need stuff to fill our day and make it fulfilling, we need stuff to fill our head too (marshmallows are a good substitute but we don't want to be worm food do we?). Basically, constructive thinking is what I think I lack- let's face it, thinking about those shoes is not getting me anywhere (except maybe the closest Aldo showroom)- it does not render me a better/worse person. More importantly- it's not getting me anywhere. Not that I want every single thought to bring me closer to success.. okay that would be quite super.. but that's not what I'm talking about.

Introspection is probably the word I'm looking for- it is completely meaningless to me. I have never felt the need for it, in spite of being pushed in that direction several times. But I'm starting see the importance now that I have become completely unpredictable to myself. I have self diagnosed myself with bipolar tendencies- it is actually creeping me out- bouts of wallowing in self pity immediately followed with uncalled for cheerfulness accompanied by an excess of really really bad jokes and laughing fits. And I am faking neither of these extremes- it's just who I am. And finally I come to the million dollar question: Who am I? (must not answer with Spiderman . no no no)

I've lost interest in this.But I will post it- the result of an hour at work.

Thought for the day

Wish
Upon a fish
Because to find a star
You'll have to go pretty damn far

That girl is so dangerous...

It rolls out the red carpet for itself marking its grand entry. No, I'm not talking about the Queen but the most unwelcome guest of all time. Is it a woman? Is it a man. NO. It's MENstruation !

And like all men, it makes one suffer like never before (or so it feels like), irritable and prone to suicidal urges. Most of you have understood the state I'm writing this in.

The only escape from this dreadful affliction is to get pregnant- which comes with its own set of problems, not to mention a howling little bundle of joy. It's time we accepted that we are completely dictated by hormones. (So much for womens' empowerment ^_- )

So moving on (or back) to one of the prime aspects of this phenomenon.. PMS- pre menstrual syndrome. Don't pay heed to the 'pre,' this starts prior to, but lasts throughout the ordeal. Many of us have had the pleasure of dealing with it directly or have at least been at the receiving end from one of our female friends. So what is it all about? It is that time of the month when a lady decides to give up on being civil and creates havoc for all those around. The pain is enough to make her nonchalant towards most other things. And during these difficult times, in Eminem's words "I don't mean to be mean, but that's all I can be."

So don't take at face value a woman who is snappy

Maybe on the inside, she's just being crampy :(

Which is a feeling very very crappy

So be understanding and make her happy

(After all, we do give you babies and occasionally bake brownies)

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I blame this post on YOU.

I feel Twitty

I think I'm treating this blog like Twitter. Well, a non-public version of Twitter, which I'm sure is beyond everyone's imagination. (Am I on to something here Mark Zuckerberg?) Which reminds me, I recently joined Twitter (Yes I am a sell out. I'm even thinking of getting a BB). But I had absolutely nothing to tweet about. I guess it's quite convenient, reading the most immediate updates by all those beyond one's reach. So far, I have followed only Nigella Lawson, a couple of journalists, some fashion magazines, Nadal, Michael C Hall and Desmond Harrington. Dexter mode. But I just don't see myself getting hooked to it, the way I am to Facebook.

Maybe I just need to give it time. Everyone deserves a second chance. But the sound of tweeting just does not appeal to me. It reminds me of Old McDonald who had a farm. With a tweet tweet here and a tweet tweet there. Till he shut down his farm and became old McDonald who has a multi-billion dollar international fast food chain. Diversion: Why does Ronald McDonald have such huge shoes??? And why does he have that creepy smile on his face? Does this make people want to eat there more? I have gone past McDonalds so many times and it is insane the amount of times I have seen grown adults sitting on his lap. Why oh why? Personally, getting chummy with a clown type thing who looks terribly like a pedo has never been on my to-do list. Call me closed-minded but NO. I do love the McChicken burger though. :)

It's surprising how McDonalds' food varies in different countries. India and the USA are some of the few places where they keep vegetarian options. I get the variance with respect to vegetarianism, it makes sense. But when will the apple pie come to India? Please come soon, I want to eat you*. Apples are wonderful. They can be made into juice, pie, cake, cider, martinis, candy. So can most other fruits, but they don't keep the doctor away now do they? (I know this is not funny). Pommes.

So.. Twitter. I guess I'll give it another shot. I just thought of a bunch of people I want to stalk. La la la . .

*creepy Ronald grin*

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* Thank you Ratieka for reminding me of those apple pies. I've been drooling since.

When pissed beyond belief, go to a seemingly isolated place and yell "NONDE??!"

Yes, it works.

Past Cullen-ary skills

With teeth as sharp as swords
And skin as white as snow
Beauty that would put to shame all the Greek Gods
His intense honey eyes glow

His touch as cold as ice
Perfectly melts upon the warmth of (my) skin
Devoid of any vice
His gaze commanding sin

His voice – a reflection of perfection
Sensually whispers in soft undertones
Never failing to get an erection :D
His massive manhood makes one moan

With pleasure unknown to humankind
He effortlessly fills every void
Takes over body and mind
Life and death alloyed

This is Diego

Ode to an iced latte

By Navni and Urvee M

What is it you do to me?

Tall and slender coffee. .
The chocolate flakes add to your sex appeal
All in all, you are a satiating meal
Yes, it is the real deal.
So wonderful inside of me you feel
The deepest of wounds you can heal
Over you, many bonds we seal.
From my emotionless self, my heart you steal
Leaving me the remains to peel
In my anguish, over I keel
In your holy presence, I kneel
Instilling within me moans and squeals.
In my head you make me turn cartwheels
You give me the confidence to not don heels
Making me feel like Jessica Biel.
Justin is a worthy opponent
But I would pitch him under any tent
In front of him I would like to be bent
Smothered with kisses; totally spent
Yes, that is exactly how it is meant
And that is how this glorious ode ents.

(25th jan 2009.. or somewhere close to it)