Thursday, September 19, 2013

Mantis Shrimp and Geeky a capella

Colors! I didn't think that colors were so mysterious and fascinating till I heard this podcast from Radiolab. It opened my mind to so many ideas. That a Mantis shrimp can see more colors than a human can. I looked it up, and this shrimp seems so bad-ass.

Mantis shrimp, I love you. I love you so much that I want to eat you. (Wait, we can eat them, right? Google says yes. Yay!)
I was going to write a bunch of facts I dug out about this sexy sea creature, but this motherfucker seems to have a fan club. And The Oatmeal has written an eloquent love letter for it.
But I wanted to write a love letter too!
I'm going to draw some blood (mine) and express my love in blood. Beat that, Oatmeal!
I'm new to this bloody love letter thing. How does one go about it?

Here are my options:

1. Prick a finger and finger-write a love letter
It's easy, but might look stalker-ish and amateurish. I don't want my mantis shrimp to think of me as an odd-ball. (Not that writing a letter in blood makes me appear less weird.)

2. Use blood as ink:
I have a whole load of questions about this one:
a. Is my blood viscous enough?
b. Is it too viscous to flow freely onto the paper?
c. What sort of nib should I use?
d. How much blood will I need?
e. How fast should I write before the blood begins to clot?
f. Won't the letter smell rusty when the blood dries out?

I didn't know writing a bloody love letter would be so complicated!

Oh, I'm going off track. What was I talking about? Colors! I'm going to read The Iliad and The Odyssey again to see if Homer did use weird colors to describe stuff. Or maybe I should just believe the guy on the podcast.

And Radiolab introduced me to this guy! He made me wish I were a science geek, just so that I could enjoy his a capella thingy more. I didn't understand most of it, but it sure had me entertained! And it has an Einstein sock puppet! Anything which has an Einstein sock puppet is bound to be awesome.

And that led me to his Rolling in the deep parody. Again, didn't understand much. But this one was pretty awesome too. (I hate that word. And I don't know why I keep using it. I need to find some alternatives to awesome)

Saturday, September 7, 2013

A Review of a Movie I haven't watched- Shuddh Desi Romance

I don't know why I'm here. I have nothing to write. I'm drawing a blank here.
So here's a load of links! Happy clicking, bitches.
Bee Orchid comic thingy
Paper sculpture awesomeness
Deep stuff about love and passion

Oh, wait. I can write a movie review. So there's Zanjeer and Shuddh Desi Romance. I'll go with Shuddh Desi Romance. Because I don't know what "zanjeer" means. 

But there is one tiny problem. I haven't watched the movie. But I won't let that stop me! I have seen the promos. That's all I need, right? Who wants to watch a shitty movie and then write a review about it? That's so lame. Anybody can do that. So here goes.

The best part of the movie-going experience is popcorn. The popcorn had the right balance of crunchiness and thermocoleyness. Good start.

 The man sitting next to me was quite the fun guy. We kept nudging each other when the movie got boring and had a round of elbow pushing. And you know how men sit with their legs open, taking up too much of leg space. I wanted some leg space too. So there was a lot of foot-fighting too. And then he'd guffaw at an unfunny joke. Not to be outdone, I'd try to out-decibel his laughter. I won. Mostly because he didn't know it was a Who-can-laugh-the-loudest-at-the-shitty-joke contest. At the end of the movie, we exchanged numbers and promised to go on a movie date. I'm waiting for your call, movie date guy!

The movie is about a pleasantly plump girl whose dream is to marry Prince Charming and to dry clothes with him on the terrace. Enter Sushant Rajput, the stubbled and vested desi Prince Charming. He's the local bad-ass who has an umbrella fetish. He sees an umbrella and his man part gives a standing ovation. Neon green umbrellas are his favorite.

Our plump heroine (Parineeti Chopra, I guess) is always prepared. She always carries an umbrella (which happens to be a bright neon green. What are the odds of that happening?) with her. It's quite predictable really, plump girl gets caught in an unexpected shower, opens neon green umbrella, Sushant gets an erection. How romantic. Oh, and he never wastes an erection. They get freaky on the terrace (in the rains. Really sizzling sex scene. Highly recommended. Made me rain.)

Everything's hunk dory till the second bitch comes into his life. This time, with an even brighter and greener umbrella than the one Parineeti owns. This Sushant character is torn between the two. Plump girl is really amazing in the sack, and second bitch has a sexy bright neon green umbrella. The movie's about the conflict between his love for mind blowing sex and his fetish for neon green umbrellas.

Will sex triumph over fetish? Who will our desi vested hero choose?

(He chooses plump girl. Plump girl steals second bitch's neon green umbrella. And they lived happily ever after. Now you don't need to watch the movie. You're welcome.)

Friday, August 23, 2013

Reams of Rhymes

On News (and why I'm not worldly wise)
News, why are you so dark and cryptic?
Always quoting statistics of death and people sick
All I ask for is an unbiased report, not death and fear
So I could peruse you, and worldly wise I would appear

On Single kids (the ones with no siblings, not those without a boyfriend/ girlfriend)
Single kids, mysteries to me they are
How do they live, without being at war
With siblings, one or even two
Even shows of affection out of the blue
And indulging in food fights too.

My Mind, the Empty Petrol Tank
My mind, the seat of cognition, 'tis blank
Dark, Cold and Empty, like a petrol tank.
I twist and turn for a spark in my head, 
A howling wind I hear instead.

Lizards are weird and awesome 
Lizards, those creepy crawlies
Why do they give me the heebie jeebies?
They're just mini-snakes with legs
Whom I could befriend, after downing a few pegs.

I think that something's just not fine
I've run out of stuff that rhyme
You may have to wait till tomorrow
While I search for a rhyme I could borrow.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

The seeds of a Big Dose of Self-Loving

She claims that she doesn't care
She, with the cascade of curly (I say wavy!) hair
Her dimples peep out now and then
Winking and disappearing again
I was too rapt in writing odes to thee
But now I shall pen odes to me
(I shall treat myself to some self loving
Because I'm tired of simply giving).

Monday, August 12, 2013


That feeling when you want something and you're left wanting
When you feel that emptiness, feeding itself, growing
The Demon of Nothingness closes your heart, numbs you
Reducing you to simply a shell, a resounding hollowness sounds within
Eyes looking, but not seeing
Ears hearing, but not listening
Alive, but not living.
Looking for someone to patch up the holes of nothingness
You feel nothing but the dull throb of emptiness
Paralyzed, feeling the worms of despair eating at your soul
Wanting to shred yourself to pieces
Unworthy, flawed, strange, awkward
All these words. chanted by the devils in your mind
Your thoughts, poisoned by hurtful words

Sunday, August 11, 2013


I'll sprout wings and to you I shall fly
To be with you and on your bed lie
But like Icarus, I shan't be
For the sun will be sure to trip me
You are my wings, sweet imagination
My thoughts, my very own creation.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Of Untamed Hair and Children's books

I have an unruly, curly mop of Malayali hair and I'm proud of it. Not exactly proud. I'm okay with it. Which is much better than hating it so much that you wish you weren't a Malayali in the first place. Straightening my hair is always an option, but I don't like the weird texture of artificially straightened poker straight hair. Accepting my crazy untamed hair was my zen moment. Erm, this isn't a post about having freaky Malayali hair and loving yourself crap (maybe a little bit of loving yourself crap)

So I'm uncool. Big deal. I love my uncoolness. Why try to be cool and mask your weirdness? Be yourself. Unless you're an asshole. Then be yourself minus the assholery.

People have different views of what's cool. But I think Calvin is a little gross

And you bore the world when you try to be cool

The Calvin and Hobbes search engine has made my life so much more easier.
Also helps me fill up some space when I have nothing to say.
I don't even know why I'm writing. I think I'd better stop now.

Children's comics and books are so much fun! Truth be told, I don't remember reading any classic children's books as a kid. Oh, I do remember reading a Russian Children's magazine as a kid. It was beautiful and had the most wonderful illustrations. It must have been Misha. I remember my brother borrowing a magazine for me to read when I was sick, and it was Misha. I had found my joy. Good times.

I remember crawling around in diapers, looking at my brother reading a comic book full of bikini babes and bare chested guys on the beach. And I thought to myself, "I want to grow up and be able to read those speech bubbles and know what these pretty people are saying". I grew up, learnt to read and picked up that Archies comic and it was bliss.

I have never (gasp!) read a Dr. Seuss book. I should get some for my nephews and nieces.

There are so many more great books, some of them have escaped my memory and I am feeling too lazy to list them.

This is going to surprise you!
Oh, and I loved this. Made me happy all over and reminded me of my best friend from school.

P.S: I promised to stop somewhere in the middle of my post. But I sort of wandered off. Here's something to make you happy.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

The Vividness of Black

I revel in the darkness enveloping me
As I gaze at the flirtations of shadows and lights upon the wall
I can hear every raindrop rejoicing on joining its family
My ears; alert to the world moving, breathing and creaking
My senses heightened
I can feel the breeze caress my heels
I'm aware of my bosom heaving up and down
Like the reaction to the touch of a passionate lover
The darkness, it soothes me
Coloring the world around me in shades of black and grey
I lie on my bed, mesmerized by the colors (or the lack of it)
Acutely aware of the vivid painting of the black world around me

Sunday, August 4, 2013

This was not what I intended to write

Today, I'm going to gush about Bear Grylls. Today, I woke up hungry. I had also dreamed of insects. And I began to wonder how would insects taste like. Oh, that reminds me of this:

Oh, and I had seen chocolate covered insects. Here's the place to buy them if you ever feel the urge to munch on chocolate ensconced creepy crawlies. (You'd think they'd include a barf bag. They do not) Do you know what I'd like covered with chocolate? Chocolate. Like chocolate puff pastry. Where the layers of chocolate are slightly separated from each other like the layers of a puff pastry. Then I can dig into it and peel out the layers of chocolate and get my fingers gooey and chocolaty. Messy eating is the best way to eat. Where you can touch your food, caress it, savor it's smell and make love to it in your mouth.

Oh, and Andrew Zimmern. I admire this man. I am a very picky eater. And you know how you feel this sense of admiration for people who are at the opposite end of the spectrum. He can eat anything. And I love the fact that he appreciates different cultures for their unique food. And he's a chef!

I know I was planning to do some Bear Grylls gushing. Some other time, shall we, Bear? Right now, I'm thinking of Andrew Zimmern and sighing a little.

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Love lessons

Feel the wind caressing your cheeks,
Like the fingers of a lover running over your skin:
Gently, affectionately.
You feel like a delicate crystal
In the hands of a lover who won't let you break.
You're the most precious thing
A thing of beauty
Which gives joy to the eyes of the beholder.
The love poured into you makes you realize
The beauty within you that you had overlooked
Makes you conscious of the little faults
Which your lover sweetly calls "quirks".
The light being shone on you fills you up,
Reflected by your crystal eyes.
And others see the sparkle and shine in those once unlit orbs
And ask you if you're in love.
Yes, you are.
A love which taught you the valuable lesson
Of loving yourself once again.

Friday, July 26, 2013

I don't know why I'm writing about Domestic Abuse

I woke up today, thinking of Nigella Lawson. See, when I woke up, I was hungry (for food!) and feeling anxious. How I wished to hear her voice, whispering food nothings to me so that it would calm me down. I love watching her show, listening to her soothing voice. Ah, her voice. It sure would zenify me during one of my panic attacks.

She has it all, doesn't she? Stuff men pine for. She's voluptuous, confident, beautiful (with make up on, she may not look beautiful without that lipstick and teased hair. I'm not jealous (er, maybe a little). Just being honest), loves to cook and can cook, intelligent and has an angelic voice. She's everything a man would want in a woman. And yet her husband wants to divorce her after news of his domestic abuse broke out. (stale news, I know, it happened ages ago. But I wasn't anxious and hungry when I woke up on the day of the divorce announcement)

Domestic abuse seems to know no discrimination. And it's not just women who are victims. Men are, too. What is it that makes perpetrators of domestic violence abuse their loved ones? Many claim that they were victims of abuse themselves. I have no insight over this. I don't even know why I'm talking about abuse.

So, thou shalt go click happy. Here are some links, everyone! Click here, here and here (I'll link to an article later, promise)

Happy clicking, bitches! (I'm calling you so only because I sort of like you for reading the crap I've written. If you don't like it, please inform me. That's a hint, you *insert expletive here*, to comment)

Sunday, July 21, 2013


"Indians chase Caucasian donors for IVF" blares TOI's headline. I was intrigued. I may chase Caucasians for amorous purposes (though I must admit, I have eyes for my fellow Indians), but would I chase them for their sperm and ova? (Not ova, for obvious reasons. I would chase them for their sperm, if I had to choose between sperms and ova) Sorry, I'm a little too old fashioned for that. I don't even own a designer bag. Designer baby? No, thanks.

If a person isn't able to conceive by the conventional methods, they go for IVF/ fertility treatments. But now, we have future parents dictating whether the sperm/ovum should be fair (or dark), muscular, blue or brown eyed, blonde or brunette. Everyone is in the search for perfection. Perfect kids, perfect bodies. Perfect life? Perfection is such a screwed up thing. It's like walking towards a place at the end of an infinite road, you would never know when you get there if you get there. Sigh. I digress. Again.

The future scares me.As if it wasn't enough that I had to compete with natural beauties and brainiacs, then came surgically enhanced beauties and brainiacs. Now I have to compete with genetically superior beauties and brainiacs? This is deeply depressing. Could you wait a moment while I curl up into a fetal position and cry a little?


But if you flip the issue to the left, there's nothing wrong in choosing how your child will look like. In a way, it is similar to humans finding mates for themselves. You are attracted to, well, attractive people. How many times have you seen an intelligent and handsome guy and thought, "We could make such beautiful and intelligent babies together.(For me, it's usually "Is he rich? Is his grandpa rich?* ")" (Never say that aloud, though. Because that's just weird)

And in this day and age, looks are ridiculously important. Beauties have it much easier. Who doesn't like to be surrounded by beauty and beautiful things? (That's why I have mirrors all over my room *Smirks*) The unconventional looking ones can build character. (Oh, ways to build character, according to Calvin's dad. Here's an example:)

 Or go for surgery.

Oh, that reminds me of this exchange between George Bernard Shaw and Isadora Duncan:
I.D.: Would it not be wonderful if we could have a child who had your brains and my beauty?
G.B.: Yes, but supposing it had your brains and my beauty!

George Bernard Shaw
"No, thanks"
Isadora Duncan
"Are you sure, hmm?"

That would be unfortunate. Please don't risk it, GB and ID!
Variations of the quote here.

*That sounded so wrong. I'm not into grandpas, it's just that I'd like to know if the money is inherited or hard earned. Just curiosity. I wouldn't be attracted to a guy because his grandparents are rich. It doesn't matter who left him the money.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

9 Ways to be Happy

Remember getting something you really wanted after:
  1. Hankering after it.
  2. Sleeping with the necessary people.
  3. Kissing numerous asses. 
  4. Working your butt off for it.
Those were the good days, eh? But that wasn't my point. Remember feeling empty and thinking "This is it? I'll just jump around a little so that nobody around will see that I'm miserable."?

So I chalked up a list (I love lists! A friend compares my lists to bottomless pits. Maybe because they're cylindrical?) of things that make me happy:
  1. Lists.
  2. Horses.
  3. Bumping into a school/ college friend.
  4. Delicious clothes.
  5. Delicious food.
  6. Making delicious food
  7. Reading a good book.
It goes on and on. If you want the whole list, gimme your email id and I'll send it to you.

So, steps to be happy:
Happy golden dog
No rabies. Yay!
  1. Accept the truth that nobody's happy all the time. You may be happy for a second when you eat that ice cream, but brain freeze! Moral: Don't eat ice cream in one second.
  2. Live in slow motion. Eat slowly, love slowly, and savor the good stuff. Slowly. Exception: when a zombie is after you. Run!
  3. Be wrapped up in your own world. Don't let tongues wagging affect you. Exception: If the tongue belongs to a rabid dog. Run!
  4. Make a List-of-Things-That-Will-Cheer-Me-Up. If you don't like making lists, get a close friend to make it for you.  If you don't have a close friend, nothing to worry about! (uh oh. Reminds me of this) I'm (almost) always there for you. 
  5. Get off your butt and do something physical. Or maybe twiddle your toes now and then. Who doesn't like toned toes? Especially people with a foot fetish, if that's the crowd you want to attract.
  6. Be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself for the silly mistakes you've made, inappropriate things you've said or the bloopers you've made. 
  7. Don't compare yourself to others. You have your stuff and others have theirs. So if you look like a fish with human attributes on a Facebook photo you were tagged in, don't fret. (Hopefully) others will have fish days too.Unless you're better than others. In that case, gloat and be happy. 
  8. Oh, and point 7 reminds me of Facebook envy. Everyone posts their best moments, best pictures and best everything. So try to share in their happiness or don't use Facebook at all.
  9. Be kind to others too. Or don't be an asshole. Whichever works.
Peace and Joy!

Monday, July 15, 2013

Farewell to Armadillo.

You know what we need? A 30 second dance party. I think I'd heard it on Grey's Anatomy. And I love popping that at friends who haven't watched and they begin to doubt my sanity. Again. Why is what's normal for me not normal for others? Ah, I can hear cherubs. Momentary enlightenment. It's the reason why what's normal for others isn't normal for me. Cherubs are so whiny. That's why God made them extra cute.

I read about Hemingway and how he was a serial womanizer. He was a bundle of contradictions. I'd always imagined him as a sweet old man with grey, thinning hair and liver spots. And he'd go click- clack on his typewriter, each letter punctuated with wheezes and coughs. He'd have a homey nurse who thought the man was going senile. I never knew he'd be the guy who might pinch the nurse's bum. But I shouldn't be saying all this about him. I haven't met him, I haven't even read his books. Sorry Mr. Hemingway.

I shall read Farewell To Arms as a way of an apology. And the title does make me curious. Farewell to a beautiful woman called Armadillo? Excerpts from a conversation between Armadillo and me:
Armadillo: Friends call me arms. Just call me arms.
Me: Can I call you Dillo?
Armadillo: No.
Me: Dillo is such a cool name. Oh, it reminds me of something. Would you be offended if I tell you what it reminds me of?
Armadillo: Er.
Me: Yes or no? I think I heard "Er".
Armadillo: .......

That was a very short conversation. Huh. Farewell, Arms!

I'm really sorry, Mr. Hemingway.

I'm over thinking this title, so I'll just write some random shit

Lizard closeup
When I smile, only cuter, and less scaly, and less green
She's grouchy and keeps to herself. Smiles occasionally. With reason, she's not deranged. Er, I mean I'm not deranged. And then I don't look like myself anymore. I look beautiful. Or at least cute. Or presentable. Er.
Have you met people who don't seem to smile at all, and suddenly, they throw a smile your way? Don't they look absolutely resplendent in all their smiling glory? Like a beam of iridescent light shining down from heaven.

 That's why I smile occasionally. Because of Resplendence and/ or Iridescence.

  Smiles, they come in different styles,
  Some short, some they stretch for miles.
  So bare your teeth and at someone grin,
  And smile at strangers, just on a whim.

  Sometimes, I'm cheerful too. Occasionally.

  I'll never misspell "occasionally" ever again.