Google for sale?

Search giant Google is known for its creativity in morphing the characters of its "Google" doodle depending on the occasion. For instance, on Oct 2nd, Google for the first time, became a Mahatma by transforming the first "G" in its logo to a majestic pencil sketch of our Bapu.

However, today, when I visited www.google.com briefly, I felt Google was up for sale. What else can a person who has a confused brain like that of the author of this post think of when one sees thin strips of alternating black and white patterns that resemble a bar code, in the place of the Google doodle? The fact though, is that it really is a bar code and Google is surely not for sale - yet. Upon decoding, one would be able to unravel the word "Google", says Digital Inspiration. Brilliant, isn't it?

Device magazine says that it is Google's way of honouring the invention of Bar Code - a typical this day, that age material! - rings a bell? Let me know if it doesn't.

Coming back to my initial trip to google.com today, though I first imagined that Google was on sale, I was quickly overwhelmed by a completely different and compelling fantasy - with the ongoing debate at Chronicwriter on India's controversial discovery of human piss on the moon, one shouldn't complain if I said that I imagined the bar code to be one of those satellite pictures, which represented a poor imitation of the zebra-crossing on the moon, created by an amateur astronaut-painter who was excessively drunk and was working on his strokes against the lack of gravity!

This is how the painting came out bar code looks:




Jokes apart. Am an ardent fan of Google. There is nothing that it does not know. It is next to god.

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Skanda-Purana: Adventures with my half-year old son

If you compare my head and his fingers, you'll find more hair in the latter - such is the power of an infant's grasp, mind you. As for my son, that's how he expresses his love - by tearing my hair apart.

Unlike his dad, he can come up with a spiky hairstyle, almost effortlessly - All he would have to do is wake up from his sleep.

He slips his hand under the quilt and screams his diaper-off, because he cannot find his hand again!

He proves every now and then that he's the son of two electrical engineers, by chewing the black USB-Cable of the 'logitech' web camera.

When he cannot stand his dad's histrionics any longer, he buries his face with the nearest piece of paper available.

When he is terribly hungry, if he cannot find his feeding bottle in the nearest vicinity, his mouth somehow gets hold of a nipple-like big and blunt object to suck - his father's nose.

If you notice scratches or blemishes of other sorts on my face, it means my son and I have had intimate moments together. 

Having read that babies love their parents' body-warmth, everyday I rock my son frantically for thirty minutes, trying to put him to sleep. The body-warmth thing does work - only for adults - eventually, I fall asleep and he's still wide awake, as fresh as ever.

He isn't a daddy-craving kid. He is happy with the soft-toy-souvenir that his uncle once brought from North Carolina - a whitish brown orangutan.

He is one of a kind kid, in the sense that he hates sucking his own thumb. Don't get me wrong, I just meant to say, he likes his index-finger better.

Apart from the above, the 'thirukkural' sized infant has other funny quirks, for which I don't have a pictorical proof....    

He amuses himself by kissing and licking his own shadow on the carpet.

He tightly clasps his silver spoon and thrusts it straight into his throat, holding his grasp for several minutes, thinking that the food will keep flowing in, just like how it does via a feeding bottle.

He laughs hysterically when his dad shreds the New York Times into hundred pieces, just to disport him.

When it comes to dressing, he has no preferences. I could even sock him up with my wife's pink i-pod sleeve.

He is extremely well-mannered. If you attempt to shake hands with him while he's lying on his back, he'll extend his leg. 

The Murphy's law always works - he waits patiently till I unfasten the soiled diaper from his bottom. After am fully done with the cleaning, he pees in peace, right onto my face.

Photo Courtesy: Thanks to R A V E, my wife, for the pics! 

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Unveiling, for the first time......

About

Skanda, a nine-month project, nicely developed and delivered on the 9th of September 2008 at 6:05PM (EST), two weeks ahead of schedule!

Specifications

Name : Skanda

Sex         : Male

Weight  : 5.6lbs 

Height  : 17.5 Inches

Biceps : 0.5 Inches

Released in : St.Mary's hospital, Waterbury

Sun sign         : Virgo

Education : Illiterate

Salient Features

Capable of crying, drinking, peeing, pooping, sleeping, and repeating the cycle again in a set interval.

What's missing in the bundle

Only the teeth, but has an in-built technology to develop the same.

Current challenge

Coping with the jet-lag!

Favourite punch-line

"Size doesn't matter. It's the attitude. And I have one"

Autograph

Available upon request -- thumb impression only.

Photograph

See above

........hope that explains what kept the blogger away from the blogsphere for the last few months :)

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Is bollywood jay-walking?

If you were to make a movie as a tribute to your father, what story line would you choose? Patriotism? An Inspirational theme? neo-realism? A romantic comedy? Murder mystery? At worst, occult science? If you can think of more categories, please jot them down and send them over to me. Am really (really!) interested in knowing how many people "vibe" with Karan Johar, who plans to make a movie centered around...hmm...why don't you take a guess? To enhance your imagination, let me remind you of some all-time bollywood classics in the form of brain teasers. If you can solve the first few, the last one should be a cakewalk. So, here you go -

B is A's wife, who happens to be C's sister. A and B became husband and wife after the death of C, who was A's ex-wife. However, B had a secret relationship with D. In the end, A and B together killed D and lived happily ever after.
Hint: Extra-marital affair. Mallika Sherawat. If you cannot guess that, quit reading and please jump out of the nearest accessible window, right now.

A loves D, C might have been in love with B. But A and B, and C and D are husbands and wives. A loved D to such an extent that he even slept with her! In the end, C and B let D elope with A. A and D lived happily ever after.
Hint: Extra-marital affair again. Call it illicit-relationship if you like. His third movie in the 'K' series. All three of them featured the BAD-shah of bollywood.

A loves B. B and C are friends. C is secretly in love with B. While A, B and C are vacationing in the Bahamas-like local location, B drugs C and takes HER to bed!
Hint: B and C are WOMEN! No, it's not Nandita Das and we're not talking about Fire!

Does that tease your brain enough? Okay, now here's the final one; the Karan Johar's father-tribute-stuff that I was talking about, a while ago. It's exactly the same as the last puzzle above, but read the hint very carefully:

A loves B. B and C are friends. C is secretly in love with B. While A, B and C are vacationing in the Bahamas-like local location, B drugs C and takes HIM to bed!
Hint: B and C are MEN! Howzzzzaaaat?

Well, there are umpteen number of such interesting plots that have burgeoned in Bollywood in the recent times. But this one takes the cake -- Karan Johar's ambitious venture titled 'Dostana', featuring Jr.Bachan, John Abraham and Priyanka Chopra.

'Dostana', which is being produced by Karan Johar as a tribute to his late father Yash Johar, has an innovative theme. Abhishek Bachan and John Abraham are gay. Yes, you heard it right. Oh no, wait! I meant, they act gay. It still is going to be a love triangle (I guess), but interlaced with a homo-sexual relationship this time, for a change.

Here's an excerpt from an interview with the director of the film, Tarun Mansukhani -

"How did John and Abhishek react on knowing they had to act gay?

They are cool, open-minded people. When I narrated the story to John, he laughed and said, 'should I do this with Abhishek?' and that is all. Neither of them had any qualms."

Is bollywood gay-walking? Err, sorry, jay-walking?

Click here to read the entire article on Rediff -> Link.

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Highway nuisance

Driving at a pulse-pounding speed of 120mph, not caring an atom about the disastrous traffic, or the driving rules, or other highway regulations could be the trendiest of things for a budding teen. But how about a middle-aged woman? Why would she want to get herself killed? What in the name of god might have gone wrong with this lady who was zipping past, faster than the fastest of the falcons? These were just a few of the many questions that were lingering in the minds of the dutiful cops who were right behind the reckless driver, chasing her. After thirty trecherous minutes, though the lady did not voluntarily pull over, the cops somehow succeeded in cornering her. While three of the officers surrounded the car and took positions, one of them cautiously approached the driver's seat, only to find a seemingly harmless woman with a ghastly look on her face.

The terrified lady, who kept mum when she was fired with a dozen questions, did not speak up until the officer asked her, "Miss, can you please give me at least one good reason why you were racing like Michael Schumacher on I-84?" To this, the lady instantly retorted, "Well, my son, who grew up 'listening' to Schumy's races in the last nine months, is on his way to meet mundane creatures like us. Damn it! am having contractions and if I don't reach the nearest hospital in the next five minutes, he'll come out and pee right into my face!"

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any of the true incidents that might have occurred in the past, or is occurring presently, or might occur in the future, is and will be purely co-incidental.

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Married men somehow become naive

Yahoo messenger, MSN, GTalk and the likes can either make or break a relationship, depending upon the marital status of the individual (read 'geezer'), with the likelihood of the former happening for a budding and young lover, and the latter, for still a budding, but old lover. One of my pal's bosom pals' had the habit of categorizing his buddies into groups on one of the chat applications. So what? Most of us do that, isn't it? He had groups such as 'School friends', 'Relatives', 'Machees of Mannaargudi' (friends from the city Mannaargudi in Tamilnadu), 'Santhome porukkis' (hooligans of the Santhome area in Chennai), 'NIITs' (read Not Interested In Technologies), 'Kathaadi kawasakis' (kaathadi means kite in tamil. I presume kawasaki is a Japanese word), and even 'alfonsa undies' (I'll leave that to your imagination).

Not too long ago, he had a tiff with his wife, when she accidentally happened to see his buddy list and noticed that her name showed up in the group titled, "Uncategorized". He had a hard time convincing her that it happened so, by mistake. A few days later, he did correct his mistake, but this time the consequences were more severe than the previous one -- as his wife accidentally happened to see his contact list again, she noticed her name in a brand new category titled, "Wives".

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Happy father's day

"Man proposes, god disposes" -- Ask a man who just fathered a child and he'd say the vice-versa is also true

Happy father's day.

(I meant to post this on June 15th, but accidentally clicked on the 'PUBLISH POST' button -- such accidents can happen, but beware of getting knocked up like the guy above!)

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Words of wisdom

While I was standing in queue at Dunkin Donuts, I overheard this conversation between a husband and wife...

Wife : I believe the new southern style chicken sandwich introduced
by McD recently, is doing very well all over the US and Europe. Did
you know?

Husband : Oh, really? I didn't know that.

Wife : Yeah. Wanna give it a shot?

Husband : Unfortunately, am not a non-vegetarian anymore.

Wife : Good for the chickens. Hope you also become a 'non-ogle-arian' -- if that's a word -- sometime soon. That'll be good for the chicks.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


In a recent google chat (edited version) with one of my childhood pals....

Me : hiya dude!


(a long pause..)


Pal : hey!
Me : howz it goin?

(a long pause..)

Pal : good
Me : howz married life ;-) ?

(a long pause..)

Pal : good

(a long pause..)

Me : busy ;-) ?

(a long pause..)

Pal : not really

Me : :( .... then y aren't u not talking much?

(a long pause..)

Pal : had a tooth extraction...that's why..actually 4, to be precise..all
my wisdom...

Me : I figured :-D.....now i see why you're not talking(typing) :-)

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Room No. 911

A bunch of desi chaps, who travelled to the US for the first time on a business visit, stayed in a hotel in New York. One beautiful morning, one of the chaps called 911 to report an emergency. The cops rushed to the spot in no time, only to find the hotel in an unexpected state of tranquility. None of the hotel staff were aware of any emergency situation in their hotel. One of the staff members led the officers to the desi gang's humble abode. After having a brief interrogation with the distressed chap who had called them, the officers left. On their way back, one of the officers stopped by the front desk, leaned forward and gently told the receptionist in a hushed voice, "It appears that we cannot fix their problem. We believe their bathroom shower stopped working. Is there someway you can help?"

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Token of appreciation

It was more than a ritual in my friend's ex-company to offer on-the-spot gratuities (really hefty ones) to their employees who made outstanding contributions to their respective projects. One such competitive employee, in spite of having exhibited his profound skills, was neither apprised in a just manner nor given the due credits. By due credits, I mean the impromptu gratuities I was talking about in the first line -- I believe, these were termed "Bravo awards".

The frustrated employee, who was no longer able to endure the injustice thrown upon him, once poured out his indignant feelings to his immediate supervisor, stating that the supervisor better honour him with at least a "Bravo". The supervisor, who was a new hire himself, did not know what "Bravo" meant; neither the true meaning of the word nor the company's lingo. Obviously, the employee meant the latter. Ignorant of these facts, the rookie searched for the "synonym" of the word in a web-dictionary, returned to the employee, gave a consoling pat on his back and shouted
with a sense of triumph, "Bravo! Bravo!"

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Food for thought

It is beyond my doubt that whoever wrote the following 'gems', must've been helplessly inebriated, or had an extremely important errand to run, or lost control over one's bladder, or skipped at least one square meal before he/she actually wrote it. I mostly think it must've been one of those chappies working at the restaurant, for I believe chappies have an innate tendency to shut their minds off and drop their jaws open instead, when they encounter delicious, lip-smacking and mouth-watering food -- Take me, for instance -- Show me a plateful of echt Bhel-Poori and a woman-full of zeal and oomph -- you can never buy me for the latter!

Anyway, coming back, thanks to Sarvajnya for capturing and sharing these precious writings, directly from the buffet table of a desi restaurant in Amreeka, whose name I don't wish to disclose!

I don't know if the cuisine in this restaurant hydrated the eaters' tongues, but I can tell for sure that the following captions would really tickle your funny bone for now!



.....and that's okra curry for you!



....that's how stylish it would sound if an 'Amreekan' pronounced cottage cheese in Hindi!




......with what? whiskey, soda and ice?




....i don't think that sounds sweet!




....there can be a free thought, but not free food...before you can lay your hands on that, crack the anagram first!




...okay...so, now I know where those 'hawalas' originated from!




.......and finally, I lost my 'peace' after reading this!

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Immortal chickens

Sometime in the recent past, I had been to BigY (a grocery store, near my home) to buy chicken drumsticks. Am habituated to checking expiry dates on ANY product I buy -- yeah, at times, I've even flipped a brand new razor pack a dozen times, frantically looking for the expiry date. Having said that, I must also say that all manufacturers across the globe, are habituated to either printing the expiry date at a place that is highly inconspicuous or leaving the column blank!

Anyway, speaking of chicken drumsticks, what could expiry date on an already dead chicken mean? Is the chicken still alive and is actually slated to die on the date mentioned in the pack? I don't think so, since I see the formless chicken in front of my own eyes! Then, what could it mean? Is the chicken going to get re-incarnated anytime between now and the predicted expiry date, and eventually die again? Hmm..Whatever, the crude reality was that I knew I was going to eat a dead body that was tested and marked for human consumption!

Am wondering how it'd be if the chickens started taking revenge -- just picture a chicken walk into a grocery store, looking for human legs! Indian, Chinese, Thai, South American, African, small, thick, long, slender, sexy; Wow!! Wouldn't they find better varieties in us than what we'd find in them?

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Clean(er's) choice

One of my friends, who's excessively obsessed with water therapy, drinks gallons of water everyday. In order to quench his thirst (or should I say, douse the fire!), he would often stop by the vending machine inside his office pantry to churn out a 16oz coke after tossing a dollar in. After he finishes the coke, he'd top it up with water, and use it for his therapy. Though his intention was to re-use the empty coke bottle everyday, he couldn't do so because it used to simply vanish from his desk! This made him go nuts and buy a new bottle everytime. He later figured out that it was the Mexican domestic helpers who cleaned his office regularly in the evenings, that discarded the empty bottles. The simplest solution would've been to secure the bottle inside a drawer -- for some reason (unknown to me, till date), he never did that. After several such keep-and-throw games, he once came up with a "brilliant" idea and wrote this text(in CAPS) on an A4 sheet: "PLEASE DO NOT TAKE OR THROW THE BOTTLE AWAY", left it over his desk and placed the empty coke bottle over it. He then left the office, feeling fully complacent. When he came back the next day, the A4 sheet was gone! And the day after, the bottle disappeared again *grin*.

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Filler post

It's been more than two weeks since I ventured (is that the right word?) into this space of mine. We were off to Florida on a long vacation and just returned this week! Thanks to all those who stopped by my blog while I was away! I had to let go of my creative energies for a fortnight, hoping that I'd be able to trap them afresh after my return. Here I am -- Back, and physically, fully rejuvenated. But for some reason, my mind is still enclosed inside this emptiness that I forcefully created before we started out! Probably, my soul is still hanging around in Miami with those bikini-clad women, in one of those dangerously-beautiful white beaches;It probably is looking for more exposure to cosmic rays.

What the heck? Is this what's called as writer's block (read blogger's block)? Believe me, am trying really hard to get over with it. Hopefully, I'll overcome this creepy phenomenon within a week's time. Until then, a word of caution to all those avid bloggers out there in the blogsphere -- before you go on vacation, make sure you have atleast a couple of posts saved as drafts that are publishable as soon as you return. The block-bug would be waiting to bite you!

A random thought that whisked through my neurons while I was dozing off in southwest airlines, which I'd like to share -- after the advent of the push-button telephones, and after the conventional and archaic dial-phones have become more of a collector's item, shouldn't the word 'dialing' itself be extinct by now?

Okay, I guess that was too much. Now, chill out for a bit and watch these
fireworks that I shot in Disney, using my low-resolution camera.



See you soon!

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Software inside, footwear outside

Sometime in the early nineties, when I was in school, when the eight-letter word C-O-M-P-U-T-E-R was considered nothing less than a machine with divine intelligence (and they called it AI!), capable of performing tasks ranging from processing of complicated accounts in a grocery store to launching of a rocket in NASA, I remember this funny poster (printed from an incredibly slow and lowest quality dot-matrix printer) stuck outside my computer lab in school that said, "Software inside, footwear outside"; as if, the computer lab were a place of worship and the computers themselves, the avtaars of gods! Not to forget the lab in-charge staff and computer sirs/ma'ams, who were considered messengers of these gods. All this hype, for a couple of old and rickety 386 machines with MS-DOS (one of them even had Windows 95!) installed in them! Whenever we passed the computer lab, we'd see the staffs sitting in front of the computer, with their legs crossed and fingers on their chins, giving a sophisticated expression on their faces. Wish I had a camera then. If I did, I would've slowly panned it behind these guys and showed the entire world what they were actually doing -- playing solitaire.

Coming back to the funny notice stuck outside the lab, when we asked the faculties why we had to leave our footwear outside and how wearing it inside the lab would affect the computers, one of them replied, "You see, there are lot of viruses and bacteria inside your shoes and chappals. If you wear it and come inside, the viruses will attack the computers and destroy the confidential software data!"

And these people were considered the tech geeks of the so-called fifth generation of computers.

I still wonder why we were asked to leave our footwear outside the computer lab. Was it just my school, or was that a universal rule then? Hmmm...nobody has given me a convincing reply till date.

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