If you've read 'The Solitary Reaper' by William Wordsworth, you might understand this...
Dear Mr. Wordsworth,
Never in my eight years as reaper have I been so utterly humiliated and embarresed! I have quite a mouthful to tell you, sir, and I'm afraid it shant be poetic!
Showing posts with label Slightly Humourous. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Slightly Humourous. Show all posts
02 November 2010
10 January 2009
My Family Pack
A few days ago, I called my buddy, only to find out that he was not at home. Over an hour later, I again called, and he pantingly answered the phone.
"Where on earth were you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"Dude, I was at the gym. Ghajini has really inspired me to work on my abs. I'm doing Ab Crunches every day..."
I did not know it then, but it was the beginning of a wonderful adventure...
For the next few days, I kept hearing about how good the exercises were. Then something convinced me to try it out for myself. Perhaps it was the little fact that : Abs were the most attractive part of the male body.
"Dude," I finally told him, "what do you think? Should I get an eight pack, or is a six pack enough for now?" I couldnt hear his reply, since he began howling with laughter. Pessimist, I thought. I'd get a six pack for now...
With complete dedication, I set out for my local gym. I approached the Gym Instructor, and told him, "I would like to develop abs." It was like asking for a bottle of strawberry milk at a department store.
The Gym Instructor observed me from top to bottom, and his lips twitched slightly. I think they teach the Instructors to remain polite.
He took me to a bench, which was slightly curved in shape, and had a bar at one end. I was supposed to lie down on the bench, with my ankles below the bar. Then, just as he illustrated to me, I was supposed to lift my upper body, till I could touch my uplifted knees. I hope you understood.
After saying a small prayer, I lay down on the bench, and was about to start my 6 pack ab campaign, when the Instructor told. "Three sets, okay?"
"Sure," I said, with a smile.
Now, have you heard a pig grunt? Seriously, have you? If you have, then you'll be able to understand the kind of sounds I produced when I did the exercise. I know for certain that they were unbearable, since an old man who was walking on a treadmill, increased the volume of the television.
After I was done, I lay down triumphantly on the bench, my till now undisturbed tummy, completely exercised. "I'm done coach!" I said.
The Instructor's lips twitched again. In fact, he placed his finger in his mouth, and bit hard so as not to laugh. "No, no," he said, almost choking, "you did three repetitions. Ten repetitions make one set. Like that, you should do three sets."
The next day, when my buddy called, I was busy devouring a KFC bucket.
"So dude, how's your exercising routine going?" he asked, panting as usual.
"Err...actually, I'm stopped for now." I said.
"Really? But then, what about you're six packs?"
I paused, thinking of my reply. My eyes caught the label on the KFC bucket.
"For now, I'm happy with my Family Pack..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
"Where on earth were you?" I asked, slightly annoyed.
"Dude, I was at the gym. Ghajini has really inspired me to work on my abs. I'm doing Ab Crunches every day..."
I did not know it then, but it was the beginning of a wonderful adventure...
For the next few days, I kept hearing about how good the exercises were. Then something convinced me to try it out for myself. Perhaps it was the little fact that : Abs were the most attractive part of the male body.
"Dude," I finally told him, "what do you think? Should I get an eight pack, or is a six pack enough for now?" I couldnt hear his reply, since he began howling with laughter. Pessimist, I thought. I'd get a six pack for now...
With complete dedication, I set out for my local gym. I approached the Gym Instructor, and told him, "I would like to develop abs." It was like asking for a bottle of strawberry milk at a department store.
The Gym Instructor observed me from top to bottom, and his lips twitched slightly. I think they teach the Instructors to remain polite.
He took me to a bench, which was slightly curved in shape, and had a bar at one end. I was supposed to lie down on the bench, with my ankles below the bar. Then, just as he illustrated to me, I was supposed to lift my upper body, till I could touch my uplifted knees. I hope you understood.
After saying a small prayer, I lay down on the bench, and was about to start my 6 pack ab campaign, when the Instructor told. "Three sets, okay?"
"Sure," I said, with a smile.
Now, have you heard a pig grunt? Seriously, have you? If you have, then you'll be able to understand the kind of sounds I produced when I did the exercise. I know for certain that they were unbearable, since an old man who was walking on a treadmill, increased the volume of the television.
After I was done, I lay down triumphantly on the bench, my till now undisturbed tummy, completely exercised. "I'm done coach!" I said.
The Instructor's lips twitched again. In fact, he placed his finger in his mouth, and bit hard so as not to laugh. "No, no," he said, almost choking, "you did three repetitions. Ten repetitions make one set. Like that, you should do three sets."
The next day, when my buddy called, I was busy devouring a KFC bucket.
"So dude, how's your exercising routine going?" he asked, panting as usual.
"Err...actually, I'm stopped for now." I said.
"Really? But then, what about you're six packs?"
I paused, thinking of my reply. My eyes caught the label on the KFC bucket.
"For now, I'm happy with my Family Pack..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
01 December 2008
"What's Up With Your Hairstyle?"
One day, I was sitting in class, talking with my buddies, when one particular wiseguy stops talking, and looks at my hair (as though expecting a squirrel to pop out). After a moment's pause, he asks me.
"What's up with your hair?"
Now what am I supposed to reply to that?
"Oh, nothing. He's just pissed off with me today. He wanted me to use the conditioner instead of hair gel..."
Instead, I asked nervously. "Err...what's wrong with it?"
He looks at my hair, as though hesitant to break the bad news to me. "Well....you know...it's just...so weird!" And before I knew it, everyone else who was talking to me starts conducting a workshop on how to critically analyse my hairstyle.
Now, I do know that I possess an unbelievable horrible hairstyle. But cmon, some people just arent lucky enough. And it's not like I havent tried to correct it.
Till my 12th year of existence, I never had any problem with my hairstyle. That was because till then, I had the default hairstyle (the one I was born with). But for some reason, I decided to change my hairstyle, and from then onwards the problem began.
So what does a 21st century, television watching, self conscious boy like me do? I try to use all types of hair gels available to contain my hairstyle. And you wouldnt believe the amount of hair gels they produce nowadays.
What's the difference between Strong Hold and Mega Hold? How is Wet Look so different from Soft Look? And worst of all....why doesnt any of these gels work on my hair?
So unless they invent a new gel that has "Unbelievable Hold", or until I go completely bald, I'll still have to hear people say.
"What's up with your hairstyle?"
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"What's up with your hair?"
Now what am I supposed to reply to that?
"Oh, nothing. He's just pissed off with me today. He wanted me to use the conditioner instead of hair gel..."
Instead, I asked nervously. "Err...what's wrong with it?"
He looks at my hair, as though hesitant to break the bad news to me. "Well....you know...it's just...so weird!" And before I knew it, everyone else who was talking to me starts conducting a workshop on how to critically analyse my hairstyle.
Now, I do know that I possess an unbelievable horrible hairstyle. But cmon, some people just arent lucky enough. And it's not like I havent tried to correct it.
Till my 12th year of existence, I never had any problem with my hairstyle. That was because till then, I had the default hairstyle (the one I was born with). But for some reason, I decided to change my hairstyle, and from then onwards the problem began.
So what does a 21st century, television watching, self conscious boy like me do? I try to use all types of hair gels available to contain my hairstyle. And you wouldnt believe the amount of hair gels they produce nowadays.
What's the difference between Strong Hold and Mega Hold? How is Wet Look so different from Soft Look? And worst of all....why doesnt any of these gels work on my hair?
So unless they invent a new gel that has "Unbelievable Hold", or until I go completely bald, I'll still have to hear people say.
"What's up with your hairstyle?"
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21 November 2008
Julius Caesar 1.5
Recently, I had a leg injury, which forced me to wear a plaster case (made out of fiber-glass, mind you!), everywhere I went.
As if this wasnt enough, I was also cast as Julius Caesar in the play..."Julius Caesar".
No, they didnt choose a limp to play the role intentionally. Which was why the Drama Teacher was visibly alarmed when he saw me limp into the practise hall, prepared with my dialogue.
"How long will it take for the plaster case to be removed?" He asked.
I told him excatly what my Doctor told me. "More than a week before the play is to be staged sir. There wont be a problem..."
Which set me thinking. What if there is a problem. What if I have to act, with the plaster case, and the fabulous limp? Well, then the play would have a few alterations, such as...
(Cassius, the main Conspirator, who wants to assasinate Julius Caesar, is worried since Julius Caesar hasnt arrived at the Senate...)
Cassius: Where on earth is Caesar. He's twenty minutes late!
Brutus: For god sakes Cassius, dont be such a jerk. He's got a limp. I heard they're carrying him here on a Stretcher.
Cassius: Oh God! On a stretcher? How on earth are we going to assasinate him --
(Julius Caesar enters, in a stretcher, carried by four of his friends. They look really pissed off. They werent told they would have to carry the guy they're going to kill)
The thirteen Senators: All hail Caesar!
Caesar: (in a really bad mood because of his leg) Ya ya whatever. Cinna, Casca, massage my feet would you. God, it's still paining so badly!
(Casca and Cinna hide their daggers, look irritatedly at Cassius. Cassius shrugs his shoulders and signals them to do as they're told...)
Metillus: (kneeling down, ready to stab Caesar) O Caesar --
Caesar: Just a minute Metillus. If you dont mind, could you pass me that glass of wine?
Metillus: (looking stunned) Err-- ofcourse. Why not...(he leans across and gets the glass of wine for Caesar)
Cassius: (getting increasingly irritated by the failure of his plan) CAESAR! I REQUEST YOU TO FREE PUBLIUS CIMBER!
Caesar: (enraged and surprised) What! (He jumps up from the stretcher, and glares at Cassius)
Casca: (taking the signal from Cassius) Now my hands will speak for -- (He moves forward and accidently steps on Caesar's leg)
(Caesar roars out in pain, and begins to hop on one leg. The Conspirators are baffled. They watch him hop around. Finally, Caesar's head hits the lamp holder, he tumbles down to the statue of Pompey, and lies still.)
(There is complete silence for a moment.)
(Every one looks towards Cassius.)
Cassius: Crap man! What the hell do we do now?
Brutus: He's dead right? That's what we wanted....so....
Casca and Cinna: (very vaguely, confused and unsure) Liberty? Freedom? Err....Tyranny is over?
Cassius: (still shocked) Hmm....listen. Some of you, you know, go to the pulpit and tell them...
Metillus: Tell them what?
(Complete silence. No one has an answer...)
The END.
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
As if this wasnt enough, I was also cast as Julius Caesar in the play..."Julius Caesar".
No, they didnt choose a limp to play the role intentionally. Which was why the Drama Teacher was visibly alarmed when he saw me limp into the practise hall, prepared with my dialogue.
"How long will it take for the plaster case to be removed?" He asked.
I told him excatly what my Doctor told me. "More than a week before the play is to be staged sir. There wont be a problem..."
Which set me thinking. What if there is a problem. What if I have to act, with the plaster case, and the fabulous limp? Well, then the play would have a few alterations, such as...
(Cassius, the main Conspirator, who wants to assasinate Julius Caesar, is worried since Julius Caesar hasnt arrived at the Senate...)
Cassius: Where on earth is Caesar. He's twenty minutes late!
Brutus: For god sakes Cassius, dont be such a jerk. He's got a limp. I heard they're carrying him here on a Stretcher.
Cassius: Oh God! On a stretcher? How on earth are we going to assasinate him --
(Julius Caesar enters, in a stretcher, carried by four of his friends. They look really pissed off. They werent told they would have to carry the guy they're going to kill)
The thirteen Senators: All hail Caesar!
Caesar: (in a really bad mood because of his leg) Ya ya whatever. Cinna, Casca, massage my feet would you. God, it's still paining so badly!
(Casca and Cinna hide their daggers, look irritatedly at Cassius. Cassius shrugs his shoulders and signals them to do as they're told...)
Metillus: (kneeling down, ready to stab Caesar) O Caesar --
Caesar: Just a minute Metillus. If you dont mind, could you pass me that glass of wine?
Metillus: (looking stunned) Err-- ofcourse. Why not...(he leans across and gets the glass of wine for Caesar)
Cassius: (getting increasingly irritated by the failure of his plan) CAESAR! I REQUEST YOU TO FREE PUBLIUS CIMBER!
Caesar: (enraged and surprised) What! (He jumps up from the stretcher, and glares at Cassius)
Casca: (taking the signal from Cassius) Now my hands will speak for -- (He moves forward and accidently steps on Caesar's leg)
(Caesar roars out in pain, and begins to hop on one leg. The Conspirators are baffled. They watch him hop around. Finally, Caesar's head hits the lamp holder, he tumbles down to the statue of Pompey, and lies still.)
(There is complete silence for a moment.)
(Every one looks towards Cassius.)
Cassius: Crap man! What the hell do we do now?
Brutus: He's dead right? That's what we wanted....so....
Casca and Cinna: (very vaguely, confused and unsure) Liberty? Freedom? Err....Tyranny is over?
Cassius: (still shocked) Hmm....listen. Some of you, you know, go to the pulpit and tell them...
Metillus: Tell them what?
(Complete silence. No one has an answer...)
The END.
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
31 August 2008
The First Laptop Diary Post...
Dear LG,
I think I should be frank with you. I dont think it's good to hide such important stuff. You must've noticed that I havent been typing for a while (Obviously, since you're the laptop...)
The thing is, I guess I'm having Blogger's Block right now. I'm feeling incapable of writing a proper post, just like you sometimes are incapable of opening My Documents ( I hate that, by the way!). Anyways, school is becoming hectic. I wonder whether I'll be able to cope with the studies. Sometimes I feel the load is too much. That I wont be able to understand it all. Now I know how you felt when you were being compared to Acer and Dell. They're way out of you're league....
Anyways, maybe I'll start writing soon. I hope you're going to be done with the formatting thing by then. Take your time. This is the fourth formatting that you've had. I dont like installing things back in place, even if you seem to enjoy it!
By the way....please do something about the keys. I cant seem to type the T's.
Love,
Your Owner.
This is an experimental new post, part of a new series aptly titled : The Laptop Diary. I do know it hasnt reached it's potential, but give it a try. Do let me know how it sounds....
I think I should be frank with you. I dont think it's good to hide such important stuff. You must've noticed that I havent been typing for a while (Obviously, since you're the laptop...)
The thing is, I guess I'm having Blogger's Block right now. I'm feeling incapable of writing a proper post, just like you sometimes are incapable of opening My Documents ( I hate that, by the way!). Anyways, school is becoming hectic. I wonder whether I'll be able to cope with the studies. Sometimes I feel the load is too much. That I wont be able to understand it all. Now I know how you felt when you were being compared to Acer and Dell. They're way out of you're league....
Anyways, maybe I'll start writing soon. I hope you're going to be done with the formatting thing by then. Take your time. This is the fourth formatting that you've had. I dont like installing things back in place, even if you seem to enjoy it!
By the way....please do something about the keys. I cant seem to type the T's.
Love,
Your Owner.
This is an experimental new post, part of a new series aptly titled : The Laptop Diary. I do know it hasnt reached it's potential, but give it a try. Do let me know how it sounds....
22 August 2008
How I Got My Dimples
When I grow up, if I turn into a public speaker, I swear to God I will tell this story in front of every audience (and probably get a standing ovation for that as well!). What is the story? It's about how I got my dimples. One clue. I didnt have them on my 4th birthday. I had two of them on my 5th. Intrigued?
Let's go to the story, shall we? First the scene. It's a bathroom (hold on, you perverts. The bathroom door is open...). My Mother is bathing me (dont expect to tease me with this. Your Mom must've bathed you too when you were 5 years old.)
To fully understand what happens next, you should know the following:
- I had come home from Kindergarden. I was sweating and thus needed a bath.
- My Mother was using a soap to bath me (like duh!).
- The Tub had a kind of dumpy elevation in the front part (those who really are into this story, take a break and check out your bathtub. My guess is, it will have those same elevated bumpy stuff too.)
Guess what happened then. It turns out there is an impression on my left as well as right cheeks (the impact was that great..) By an impression, I mean, like how the moon has a lot of impressions on it. In other words....er.....holes. Alright, I'm not crazy, but the truth is, there were deep, hole like thingys on both my cheeks.
What my worried Mother and not so worried Father does, is go to a few doctors and get me some oinments. The Docs all said that the deep, hole like impressions would slowly heal. Well, atleast I have that as proof. The next time you see me, watch closely. My left cheek has a dimple. My right cheek apparently doesnt.
Normally, things arent like that my friend....
So all I'm saying is.....Would you like some Dimples?
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21 August 2008
The Mallu Who Lived
I'm going to talk about the day that I almost died....
(All you cynical readers out there, dont rejoice yet. I said almost. But not quite. I'm still alive and kicking...)
The day was a long time ago. Back then, I was a 5 or 4 year old kid, enjoying my time in India. When the action starts, I'm in the front porch of my house, jumping around, making odd noises, and you know, playing with my lips (that was my way of enjoying.) Just then, my Mom got hold of me, and gave me some cough syrus (for my cough, obviously.) She saw that I had some peanuts in my mouth, but didnt bother about it. I didnt either. I just continued jumping around and making noises. Little did I know that those peanuts would kill me....almost.
Two days later, we all went to the doctor, (well I didnt want to go. I wanted to play with my lips and make odd noises...but who listens to me anyway!). My Mom just mentioned to the Doc that I had some peanuts in my mouth when she was giving me my cough syrup. The Doc (being one of the few good ones in India at that time) told that we should check it out immediately. I wasnt so enthusiastic about any of it, but before I could voice my opinion, they stuck a needle into me and gave me anesthetics. I dont remember anything after that.
Turns out, something bad happened. Now listen carefully, since this is the technical part of the story. It seems that after having the cough syrup, the peanuts got quite confused about which pipe to go down, and went through the wind pipe instead (I know, such retarded nuts!). What happened then, was that the peanuts ended up in my lungs. Not the ideal place for digestion, you'll agree.
The Doc was frantic about it all (I was unconsious...). He said that if the peanuts moved a bit more down my lungs, it would block the alveoli or something. I would just end up on the table, chocked to death, though it would be peaceful (since I was unconsious...)
My Mom got ready for her part of the role, and quickly began crying. My Dad did what he was supposed to, and began pacing around the rooom. The Doc, who thankfully knew what he had to do, ordered a Bronchoscopy.
Now most of you dont know what that is. It's this cool procedure, where they send a tube down your lungs. Obviously they all wanted the peanuts out of my lungs.
My extended family and relatives all sat at home and began praying for me. My Mom turned up a gear and more tears started flowing. My Dad....well he was a bit tired from all the pacing around. He took a bit of rest.
To cut a long story short, they took the bloody retarded peanuts out of my lungs, threw them away, and I was woken up. I couldnt understand why everyone started hugging me after that. Years later, my Mom told me this fantastic story.
I read Harry Potter, and thought, 'He just survived a killing curse. I survived a handful of peanuts trying to choke me to death. I'm way cooler.'
That's why I say....I'm the "Mallu Who Lived..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
(All you cynical readers out there, dont rejoice yet. I said almost. But not quite. I'm still alive and kicking...)
The day was a long time ago. Back then, I was a 5 or 4 year old kid, enjoying my time in India. When the action starts, I'm in the front porch of my house, jumping around, making odd noises, and you know, playing with my lips (that was my way of enjoying.) Just then, my Mom got hold of me, and gave me some cough syrus (for my cough, obviously.) She saw that I had some peanuts in my mouth, but didnt bother about it. I didnt either. I just continued jumping around and making noises. Little did I know that those peanuts would kill me....almost.
Two days later, we all went to the doctor, (well I didnt want to go. I wanted to play with my lips and make odd noises...but who listens to me anyway!). My Mom just mentioned to the Doc that I had some peanuts in my mouth when she was giving me my cough syrup. The Doc (being one of the few good ones in India at that time) told that we should check it out immediately. I wasnt so enthusiastic about any of it, but before I could voice my opinion, they stuck a needle into me and gave me anesthetics. I dont remember anything after that.
Turns out, something bad happened. Now listen carefully, since this is the technical part of the story. It seems that after having the cough syrup, the peanuts got quite confused about which pipe to go down, and went through the wind pipe instead (I know, such retarded nuts!). What happened then, was that the peanuts ended up in my lungs. Not the ideal place for digestion, you'll agree.
The Doc was frantic about it all (I was unconsious...). He said that if the peanuts moved a bit more down my lungs, it would block the alveoli or something. I would just end up on the table, chocked to death, though it would be peaceful (since I was unconsious...)
My Mom got ready for her part of the role, and quickly began crying. My Dad did what he was supposed to, and began pacing around the rooom. The Doc, who thankfully knew what he had to do, ordered a Bronchoscopy.
Now most of you dont know what that is. It's this cool procedure, where they send a tube down your lungs. Obviously they all wanted the peanuts out of my lungs.
My extended family and relatives all sat at home and began praying for me. My Mom turned up a gear and more tears started flowing. My Dad....well he was a bit tired from all the pacing around. He took a bit of rest.
To cut a long story short, they took the bloody retarded peanuts out of my lungs, threw them away, and I was woken up. I couldnt understand why everyone started hugging me after that. Years later, my Mom told me this fantastic story.
I read Harry Potter, and thought, 'He just survived a killing curse. I survived a handful of peanuts trying to choke me to death. I'm way cooler.'
That's why I say....I'm the "Mallu Who Lived..."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
18 August 2008
Once Upon A Time....When I Was Cute
Now don't laugh at the title. It's true. Once upon a time, I was cute. But I've grown older, more rugged now. Too much time in the sun, too much time in the kitchen....all have made me loose my cuteness.
I wouldn't have complained about it, if it wasn't for an annoying picture. The picture of my 5 year old self.
You see, a few months back, I decided to put this ridiculously 'angel' like picture as my MSN Display Picture. The reason? I couldn't find any present day picture of mine that was socially acceptable. The problem is, I think I've become jealous...of my five year old self. It's true. And there's a reason too.
Every guy who chatted with me, asked me who the kid in the pic was. I said its me. What do I get in return? :-O. Or :P. Now that's insulting!
What's more, the girls who chatted with me, immediately asked, "Whose picture is that?". I replied, (blushing - though I was sitting in front of a laptop) "Err...that's my picture. When I was 5 years old."
"Oh cho chweeet!" they all say. (I don't know why, but apparently 'Cho Chweet' is better than 'So Sweet').
"Thank you. The picture looks cute right....just like how I look right now?" I added, feeling a bit pleased with myself. Strangely, they all quickly went off line after that. I wonder why....
So late at night, or early in the morning, I stand in front of my mirror, looking at the picture of my 5 year old self propped up in front of me, and think to myself, "Ah...the good old days...when I was cute."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
You see, a few months back, I decided to put this ridiculously 'angel' like picture as my MSN Display Picture. The reason? I couldn't find any present day picture of mine that was socially acceptable. The problem is, I think I've become jealous...of my five year old self. It's true. And there's a reason too.
Every guy who chatted with me, asked me who the kid in the pic was. I said its me. What do I get in return? :-O. Or :P. Now that's insulting!
What's more, the girls who chatted with me, immediately asked, "Whose picture is that?". I replied, (blushing - though I was sitting in front of a laptop) "Err...that's my picture. When I was 5 years old."
"Oh cho chweeet!" they all say. (I don't know why, but apparently 'Cho Chweet' is better than 'So Sweet').
"Thank you. The picture looks cute right....just like how I look right now?" I added, feeling a bit pleased with myself. Strangely, they all quickly went off line after that. I wonder why....
So late at night, or early in the morning, I stand in front of my mirror, looking at the picture of my 5 year old self propped up in front of me, and think to myself, "Ah...the good old days...when I was cute."
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
What's Wrong With My Hello?
What's wrong with my Hello?
Yup, I'd like to know that, thank you. At first I thought it was just some kind of a joke going around. But now I'm seriously taking up this issue.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, here's the details.
Like any active teenager, I receive phone calls from my friends. While attending those phone calls, I - as per 21st century protocol - start by saying, "Hello."
And the smart mouth at the other end, starts his conversation by saying, "Ha! What kind of a Hello is that? Ha-lo? Don't you even know how to say Hello properly?"
I don't suffer from extremely low inferiority complex. But when a few guys, over the course of a few months, tell me the same thing, I start to feel bad about my "Hello".
So like any normal teenager trying to fit into society, I decide to improve on my hello...
"What's wrong with it?" I ask with concern. My friend likes the sudden authority he has. "Well, you sound as though you just came running to get the phone."
The next time the phone rang, I was at my study table. Getting up slowly, I hummed a tune, and slowly walked along the corridor. My mother started screaming at me to get the phone. Still breathing calmly, I neared the phone, took a short breath, and picked the receiver. The line was dead. Apparently I took a little more time than allowed.
My mother was furious at me. "Why on earth cant you pick the phone up quickly?" she asked.
I nodded my head. "You wont understand, mother. You wont understand."
This happened for about four times. Finally, I did dash to get the phone. Gasping for breath, I said, "Hello?"
It was the same smart mouth who hurt my self - esteem. "What's wrong with you?" He asked. "I've been trying to call so long, and no one's picking the phone?"
I mumbled some excuse for that. "Anyways, leave that," he said. "Man, you're 'Hello' is so crap! Ha-lo? Ha ha..."
I tried a different style from then onwards. "Good Morning" was kinda good, until my friends started thinking they'd dialled the wrong number.
"Hi" was nice for some time, but somehow it never caught on. Finally, in an act of desperation, I picked the receiver once and said, "Yo!"
It was my biology teacher. After asking whether she had dialled the correct number, she wanted to speak to my mother. About ten minutes later, my mother came up to me, looking annoyed. "I just talked to your teacher now," she said. "Son, what's wrong with your hello?"
From then onwards, I seldom attend the phone....
Over and Out.
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Yup, I'd like to know that, thank you. At first I thought it was just some kind of a joke going around. But now I'm seriously taking up this issue.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, here's the details.
Like any active teenager, I receive phone calls from my friends. While attending those phone calls, I - as per 21st century protocol - start by saying, "Hello."
And the smart mouth at the other end, starts his conversation by saying, "Ha! What kind of a Hello is that? Ha-lo? Don't you even know how to say Hello properly?"
I don't suffer from extremely low inferiority complex. But when a few guys, over the course of a few months, tell me the same thing, I start to feel bad about my "Hello".
So like any normal teenager trying to fit into society, I decide to improve on my hello...
"What's wrong with it?" I ask with concern. My friend likes the sudden authority he has. "Well, you sound as though you just came running to get the phone."
The next time the phone rang, I was at my study table. Getting up slowly, I hummed a tune, and slowly walked along the corridor. My mother started screaming at me to get the phone. Still breathing calmly, I neared the phone, took a short breath, and picked the receiver. The line was dead. Apparently I took a little more time than allowed.
My mother was furious at me. "Why on earth cant you pick the phone up quickly?" she asked.
I nodded my head. "You wont understand, mother. You wont understand."
This happened for about four times. Finally, I did dash to get the phone. Gasping for breath, I said, "Hello?"
It was the same smart mouth who hurt my self - esteem. "What's wrong with you?" He asked. "I've been trying to call so long, and no one's picking the phone?"
I mumbled some excuse for that. "Anyways, leave that," he said. "Man, you're 'Hello' is so crap! Ha-lo? Ha ha..."
I tried a different style from then onwards. "Good Morning" was kinda good, until my friends started thinking they'd dialled the wrong number.
"Hi" was nice for some time, but somehow it never caught on. Finally, in an act of desperation, I picked the receiver once and said, "Yo!"
It was my biology teacher. After asking whether she had dialled the correct number, she wanted to speak to my mother. About ten minutes later, my mother came up to me, looking annoyed. "I just talked to your teacher now," she said. "Son, what's wrong with your hello?"
From then onwards, I seldom attend the phone....
Over and Out.
Note: From now onwards, the Blog will be updated every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Please subscribe to the blog, so that you get the latest updates in your inbox. Besides, leave a comment, or if you are a blogger yourself, follow this blog.
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