Tales from germania - Episode "i-Pot"

I am going to reveal a great mystery to you. Not the run-of-the-mill mystery that you would see agatha christie tinkering with. This is a mystery in the class of "why did the chicken cross the road" or "What do them scots wear under those kilts?".

The mystery that we are going to reveal is:
"How the hell do those europeans keep their shit-pot so clean?"

Working at ITPL, I have often wondered if it would do us a great benefit , if we were to potty-train all our engineers. Well, if you ever plan to take a dump in our established company, then bring along your own tissue paper, a brand of industrial strength disinfectanct, rubber gloves, etc etc.

So there I was , Looking at the next innovation at Infineon's new site CAMPEON. Everything here is supposedly state-of-the-art , we have iPrint, iE-mail, iScan , in addition to the mundane iPod. But what I beheld was far more sophisticated. Yes!! IT WAS THE i-POT. Some innovative engineer in our organization had christened, what is otherwise called a loo (where I come from), the iPOT.

It was 2 minutes to noon, there it stood, unperturbed by my presence, it almost twinkled in contempt. The scene for this western was set. I stood at the other end of the booth, with my hands on my waist.

When it comes to performing in such a situation, I suffer from severe stage fright. Playing metal on stage, thats easy. Taking a shit in the pin-drop quiet of a german bathroom , that takes courage.

There was not a single trace of water anywhere....And then it dawned on me like a understanding usually dawns on people of mediocre intellect. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my memory, a voice was remarking about european ways of cleaning, it was saying " European methods are dry methods, these are efficient methods where water is scarce"

Well the mystery was solved, no water, no splashing, clean loo .

In the begining there was darkness, then there was light, the heavens, the earth and the paraphenalia, and finally there was tissue paper

Tales from J.A.F.A - II

Why men turn into JAFA:
They say that the more you dance, your ability to squeeze out pheromones increases linearly, and that most women are driven crazy by throes of lust and you are clobbered to a lustful death, right on the dance floor.

They also say, that it is highly inadvisable to actually go to a dance floor without dousing yourself in deodorant, as the more your dance your ability to suffer from WSA increases exponentially. WSA (aka Wet Smelly Armpit) has been known to destroy libidos, lead to depression and severe bouts of loneliness.

And any Ph.D in Maths will tell you that linearly gets its ass whooped majorly by exponentially ( with the minor exceptions of the region between 0 and 1, where a linear function rises faster than an exponential one, except of course on the planet of "Ericteel Tis-Phunktionalla", where nothing rises!)

It should be needless to mention that deodorants destroy the action of pheromones. Thus leaving most men in bangalore dancing very clumsily, desperately hoping to strike a right balance of pheromones and WSA. However, Newton's Law of Universal JAFA states that "Clumsily Moving men on the dance floor leads to some very bad vibes and repels women into a state of fury, and thus a JAFA is born" . The only know exception to this rule is that "Clumsily Moving Women lead to immediate Erectile disfuction ( no relation to the phonetically similar planet ), and a JAFA is suddenly filled with hope of living out a grossly insipid life- thus renouncing their JAFA-hood"

Tales from J.A.F.A. - I

As a quick update to the previous post...the job that was gonna make me rich, well...I didn't take it. I was persuaded to stay by the management and my brother...

Leave out all the patriots...and leave out the people who dont read, and, perhaps, leave out all other J.A.F.A's , well for all the rest... I have a confession to make.
You see, I am a JAFA , always been one, its just that it takes certain things in your life for you to realize that you are one...

Just Another Frustrated Ass-hole (aka JAFA) . Somewhere between my aspirations for things great and small, and what I actually get , I have taken great strides forward to own this title. Not to say that what I have is insignificant, I have a job, friends, I have passion to learn...so on, and so forth...

I will not be going into a monologue on what I expect from life (the reader can thank god for small mercies!) But I will tell you in short why I am an JAFA, and maybe you will feel that it is not so bad to be a JAFA after all (besides that grouchy bitter frown on your brow all the time)

I am a JAFA because I was born in India to a middle class family but quickly, under the tutelage of my father, grew to despise anything remotely middle class and love everything american. Wierd dont you think, excercises in hating everything that surrounds you .. No wonder I am an hopeless elitist. I suffer from ARGS (Aspirational-to-Reality Gap Syndrome)..see what i mean....I am inflicted with the american obsession with syndromes . They have one for everything. like the DNRS ( Dad Not Rich Syndrome)... and anyone who's seen the latest hip-hop videos knows about the OBWBRHS . No? Its the Obese Below Waist But RED HOT Syndrome ...that describes whole new class of commodifying well-endowed african-american women...but ARGS is newly coined I hope ( oh! the joy!)

I am a JAFA because I was born in a country, which despite all its greatness and Infosys, forget to learn how to build roads...( i pay taxes by the way)

I am a JAFA because after torrid sessions of VH1, I keep hoping that the lifestyle of Justin Timberlake is actually accessible...and to aggravate matters I have not gone dancing in four months...

Welcome to the life of a JAFA... dont go away, I will be back after Bnaglaore has beaten the shit out of my aspiration for seeing something classy in the city...

THE JOB!!

So they say that by monday I will have the magma offer...
So thus begins the journey to be filthy rich..well not really...It will be 1 and a 1/2 years since i started working, and this offer should make me happy...money wise...

Kinda nervous about what it might entail.. i would like to have a calling towards work... they cant be paying me so much to just sit around....

Monday will come and the initial enthusiasm of they giant paycheck will wear off... and i will wait impatiently for the next big bump up.... till then... hmmm ... the clock will tick

Bday bash!

My first complete "honest to god" blackout!!!!!!
Oct 8th - Party at my place ...
Among other things of interest, My face got pasted with 3 rounds of cake and one round of dip..
After having chaged my shirt three times, we started our tequila shots...courtsey Rama.. i was pretty enthusistic about my first shots ...and 5 shots later .... I picked my guitar...enthusiastic about my songs, I started grabbing bottles and glasses from everyone and drank everything, three songs later, I couldn't distinguish the two necks of my guitar and had trouble directing my four hands to them. Twenty minutes later, I passed out. 'Puke everywhere' is the title of the story... which I only got to hear in the morning!!! For the last twenty minutes I have no recollection of what happenend!! I woke up in my underwear, coz i had been drenched by litres of water, which had no effect other than getting my pants wet, which were promptly removed!!!!

Well that was A BLAST!!!!

Of a thing called boredom

chronic, never-ending boredom...thats what life is in bangalore...There are things which generate excitement in retrospect. Things you did in the past which you felt nice about, but bangalore has offered me very little of that. The contrast to my life in college is huge. I wasn't eactly a party animal in college, but i had a wide variety of things to keep me happy...And i had people...every once in a while there would be something to do... HEADS UP!!! thats the only thing I can tell myself...I wnat to break this pattern of monotony. And whats somewhat consoling is that I am not the only one. People who have come from delhi and are somewhat driven for their careers find themselves in a odd spot, coming from delhi gives you that craving for a social life and the drive for the career means you are probably involved with something that gives you no time to indulge in a social life. the situation falling out of these contradictions is compunded by a mad "bigger paycheck" rush. Sanity is very subjective.

To trust the "KNEE"

this weekend's trip to kodaikanal was awesome fun!
misty mountain tops ! a walk in the clouds !
and some semi-serious biking and trekking!
i hope there are more of these in the pipeline!
A big refreshing change!!
Climbing up a hill on a bicycle is a killer!!
But at the same time it outs my trust back on my knee...
I wasnt in bad shape...but i guess i can only get better...