How to

So this Bosnian guy tried unsuccessfully to kill his mother-in-law using an anti-tank missile. He probably doesn't play Call of Duty a lot because as an expert in the field, I could have told him that it is very difficult to kill infantry-in-law using an anti-tank missile. You have to aim really hard and cannot rely on the splash effect of the explosion like you would in case of a common grenade.

The best way to carry out the kill would have depended on the circumstances. If his target were to be running from room to room, a submachine gun like the mini-Uzi or the MP5 would have been perfect for the purpose. If he were to be at a longish distance, say encamped in her neighbor's garden or high atop a tree, an M16A4 rifle would have been great because it gives you both the range as well as the accuracy. If he had lots of time on his hands and wished the endeavor to be totally bereft of any danger, he could have used a Barrett .50 cal sniper rifle from, half a mile away. This rifle does make a loud noise, but that should be drowned out by the sound of your neighbor trying to kill his mother-in-law with an anti-tank missile.

As an aside, I like how the reporter sympathetically explains how "She cannot be killed be (sic) conventional weapons".

Disclaimer : This blog does not condone the actual killing of real human beings.

Emasculinity

Black guy ahead of gawker at the Subway : "I'll have the nine inch sub please".

Indian sandwich maker guy : "You mean the six inch sub?"

Black guy : "Yeah okay, the six inch one".

gawker (to himself) : "Quit showing off, bastarguy".

Cooking show

I came up with a great idea for a television cooking show. I will be pitching it to Food Network, Fine Living Network, Black Entertainment Television or any private citizen with a transponder who will answer my phone call. I don't think this idea has ever been implemented in the entire history of cooking shows. In my show, I would give my audience a step by step demonstration on how to cook all my favorite dishes. The twist is that this would provide people with a list of steps on how not to cook that particular dish. Every dish I have ever tried to cook has turned into a federal disaster and this would be a good way for me to capitalize on my failcooking. For example, if I were to add chopped tomatoes to something, that would let you know that you would be better off adding grated apples instead. At the end of my show, I would have the studio audience come over, taste my dish and show their appropriately disgusted facial expressions to the camera in order to demonstrate to all of you sitting out there just how bad my food turned out to be.

For now, I'm trying to come up with a recipe for the pilot episode that would perfectly capture the worst of my cooking instincts. I'm thinking the first omelet I ever produced as a graduate student in the US. In my recipe, I used two onions and only one egg, chopped the onions lengthwise and added onions and egg separately to the frying pan. If you refuse to follow those steps to the letter, you should end up with a perfectly delicious omelet.

I will be calling my show "The Opposite of Bad Cooking". I will let you know when to turn on the TV.

PS : A commenter correctly pointed out that the show should be named "The Opposite of Good Cooking". Turns out I also suck at naming food shows about cooking that sucks.

Pretty

I've been styling my own hair for the past eight years. When I say styling, I mean cutting and when I say cutting, I mean shaving it off. I do this to myself every three months. As a result, I look like a human only about 30 days a year. Today is one of those days that happen to be at the end of every shaving cycle. In about a week I will voluntarily re-inflict baldness upon me and turn into a cue ball. But during these next seven days, I will be pretty, oh so pretty. Enjoy my beauty while you can, world.

Extraordinarily Funny

If you are into Hindi film music, you need to check this out.

No more a failure

Are you like me, someone who periodically turns around and flashes a beam on the receding outline of his life to realize that he's accomplished nothing of significant worth in his thirty odd years on this planet? Do you often feel that your life turned out to be, if not a lemon, at least a nectarine and wonder whether you should ask for your money back? If so, boy, do I have a solution for you.

All you have to do is find one trivial thing you do successfully every day, add the number of times you've been doing it over the years and there you go, you ain't a failure any more. In my case, it's walking up and down stairs. I have been doing this continuously without falling down for the past eight years of my life. Let's do the math.

Each day at work, I climb thirty-five stairs four times a day.

35 x 4 = 140 stairs a day.

I do this five days a week.

140 x 5 = 700 stairs a week.

Let's say fifty weeks a year.

700 x 50 = 35,000 stairs a year.

For the past eight years.

35,000 x 8 = 2,80,000 stairs.

So to recap, I have climbed 2,80,000 stairs without falling down even once. Wow. Just, wow. I'm blown away. Seriously, that is quite an achievement. To give you some perspective on how huge this is, consider that in England, every year, over a 100,000 people are treated for injuries caused by falling down stairs. Have you ever listened to 100,000 people falling down stairs? It's quite a racket. And these are only the folks who were man (or woman) enough to admit that they fell down stairs and drove themselves to the hospital. If you consider that the difference between the number of people who masturbate and those who admit to it is a factor of five and apply that factor to this case, it turns out that over 500,000 Brits fall down stairs every year. And these are all fine, upstanding, successful people who you once thought were better than you.

But I have successfully navigated 2,80,000 stairs without taking a single tumble. I'm proud of this feat. More so because I'm a stair-runner, not a stair-walker. My mother was right. I am indeed special.

So off you go, all you special people out there and start crunching those numbers. Whether it is your ability to sit on the same chair an umpteen number of times without breaking its legs or opening a door without pulling it off its hinges or tying your shoelaces without snapping them in half (something which I suck at), go find something you are very successful at and be happy.

Historic aerial PA

I've often wondered what my neighborhood might have looked like, say, 50 or 100 years ago and this website answered my question. It's got aerial pictures of Pennsylvania from the 40s and 70s, arranged by grid on the map. Amazing. I wonder if other states have such a website as well.

PETA makes a funny

PETA is pissed at Call of Duty : World @ War. PETA doesn't like the fact that players are forced to kill attack dogs that can be unleashed by their opponent once he or she achieves a killing streak of 7. In the interest of avoiding a cliched response, I will forego the act of wondering aloud what PETA's opinion is with regard to the brutal murder of human beings in the game. So now that's foregone, let us relish PETA's deliciously demented alternative vision of the concept, preferably to be implemented in the next Call of Duty sequel.

To help the folks at Activision Blizzard learn about the ethical treatment of animals (something we're sorta experts on) we're offering to let them take PETA's "Developing Empathy for Animals" seminar free of charge, and we're sending a package of dog-friendly Nintendogs games to their office.

With a little Nintendogs influence, perhaps the next Call of Duty game will have you unlock achievements for petting the dogs you encounter and going on walks or playing Frisbee with them.

The moment I read this, I knew it was a winner. Who wouldn't buy a war game where you could unleash a pack of vicious rottweilers on your enemy who, by rule, would be forced to place his gun aside for the moment and braving claws, fangs and the certain onset of rabies, pet those brutes and take them on a frisbee slinging walk while you take your time deciding which part of his anatomy you want to blow clean off his body? Heck, I sure would.

At this time, I would also like to offer my pre-emptive approval to the UN Human Rights Commision's future request that every subsequent war-based video game give the player an option to either stab his opponent in the back or cuddle with him while feeding him spoonfuls of warm scrumptious apple pie.

QOTD

Colleague1 on Colleague2 :

"If this guy came upon a wall, instead of climbing it, he would probably run left and right trying to find out where it ended."

?

A sudden influx of people to this blog from IIT IIIT Hyderabad leads me to ask the question : Am I on the syllabus?

For Dummies

This weekend, as I was foraging in Borders, I saw this book called "Forensics for Dummies". It made me question whether there really are a lot of people hovering around a dead body, thinking, "Fuck 911, I'm gonna investigate this one on my own".

One more thing about the "For Dummies" series of books. Most people who buy these books believe they are not really dummies. And that the reason they are buying this book is because they just want to be taught that topic as if they were a dummy. Well my friend, I hate to burst your bubble, but if you need to be taught like you were a dummy, chances are you actually are a dummy. So rest your mind in ease because you are indeed getting value for your money.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that I am currently reading the book "Mutual Funds for Dummies". After reading this book, I feel there should be a special series of books for people like me called "For Dummies who are also afflicted by ADD". These books should go slow enough for one to grasp the subject matter, but also not so slow that one reaches for the TV remote.

One book that I really don't want to see in a bookstore is "Commercial Airline Piloting for Dummies". I hope they don't publish that one. Now I know that we live in a politically correct world where everything is supposedly possible for everybody regardless of gender, sexual orientation and mental capacity, but honestly, I would strongly discourage dummies from wanting to assume control of a commercial airliner. Not just dummies, but even people unsure about their dummy status, people who might buy this book just to be on the safe side. When I fly, I want somebody in control of the plane who is absolutely 100% sure that he is not a dummy. While landing the plane, I don't want the pilot going, "Hmmmm...My instructions were to land on runway 2, but I might be a dummy and reading those instructions wrong so maybe I should land on runway 3". The end result might be a landing on runway 2.5. Definitely not a good idea to publish this book.

Fortune

So apparently, my folks consulted an astrologer, who concluded that my planets would (finally) begin to align starting in June. I'm not sure whether to believe the astrologer or the fortune cookie that informed me, "You have a curious smile and a mysterious nature".

Dreams

My latest thing is to wake up in a panic about five times a night, believing that my house is on fire. My previous thing was to wake up in a panic about five times a night, believing that my roof is leaking. I wish I could somehow find a way to combine these two dreams and finally get some sleep.

Things that suck : Volume XXXVIII

During the course of a conversation, you draw a rather funny analogy which gets lots of laughs and then somebody takes it a step further and extends your analogy, but now it's not funny anymore and you have to laugh at it regardless because the person who did it laughed at your original analogy.

Drawing blood

I got my blood drawn today. The last time I got my blood drawn was for our I-485 immigration applications which was two years ago. If you are getting your blood drawn, here's some advice. Try not to eat at a Mexican restaurant right before you get it done. My second recommendation is, if you are hell-bent upon disregarding my advice and intend to go right ahead and order a burrito, please do not order a side of rice and beans. Otherwise, you will make it a day to remember and blog about.

My wife had her blood drawn first. She emerged from the room, rubbing her arm. "They couldn't find a vein so they had to repeatedly stick their needle into me", she complained. Ha ha, I said callously, for I found the situation not lacking in humor. "Now watch how a man gets his blood drawn". I walked inside very casually as if to show those folks that I get blood drawn everyday for one reason or another. No big deal for the man.

They sat me down and stuck it to me. They began to siphon out my blood. And as the tubes started to fill up with red, I got the distinct sense that my life was being sucked out of my body. I could feel the blood supply to my brain being diverted into the test tube. And then, I had to vomit. I informed the attendant of my wish. I also told her that after vomiting, I would probably die and that I had not yet written my will and would she make sure that my wife got everything, except for my Wodehouse collection which should go to my sister? She said okay and gave me a bag. And then I let it all out. Burrito, side of rice, side of beans and two kinds of hot sauces, chipotle and habanero.

As I walked out, my wife took one look at my pale face and foam-flecked lips and asked me, "So is this how all men get their blood drawn?" Humbled, I accepted her sarcasm and begged her to teach me everything she knew about vomit-free blood-letting.

As a result of my last experience, I was somewhat apprehensive at today's blood-drawing. I said to the nurse, "Heh heh, you better get a bag ready because I've been known to throw up". She replied, "Oh don't worry, we will make it quick and painless". She stuck the needle into me and asked me, "Are you okay hon?" I said, "Yes, I'm okay, but it is when I see red that I begin to see white". She replied, "In that case, why don't you look over to your left. Look at those pictures of puppies and pandas and the baby bear".

I turned my head and indeed, there were baby animals on the wall. "Don't worry", said the puppy's sad eyes. "It's not blood, it's honey". "Give me that honey, shithead", yelled the baby bear. "Quit fighting you two ass-jockeys or I'll smack you both upside down", said the panda. Oh, those silly animals. They saved me from being humiliated again. I didn't puke this time.

Submarines

I wonder why more people in the US don't own a submarine. Americans like to be around water, in water, on water and aboard vehicles that travel through water. Most everybody in the US owns a boat. Why not own a submarine? It is way cooler than a boat. A boat can sink and it will be bye bye and off to the depths. And the people going bye bye will be the ones cruising around in the sub and waving.

What's the point of owning a boat? All it does is stay afloat. What's the big deal in staying afloat? I can't swim and I can still stay afloat. Just give me one a them parachute swim trunks. Diving is so much more difficult. I don't know how people can hold their breath underwater and still manage to fight each other in the movies. If I am underwater and merely think about the fact that I am underwater, I immediately go ahead and gulp down large amounts of swimming pool.

I think the point of owning a boat is more to do with the public display of free time and money than the actual enjoyment thereof. You can navigate your boat to another boat and chat it up with your boat-owner friend, both of you deriving satisfaction from the fact that the other knows that you own a boat. Difficult to do that in a submarine. "Hey Jack, haven't pinged you in a long time, where you been, over." "Yeah, had to surface for a while, had some stuff to do, over." "Well, it's good to see your blip on my sonar, how's the weather over there, over". "Weather's great, climate control holding up, CO2 scrubber working overtime if you know what I mean he he, over." "He he of course, well, gotta scoot, catch your wake later, over and out."

Email joke

So I emailed this joke to a couple of American colleagues. Didn't get a response. So I went off to their cubicle to get their response in person.

gawker : Hey guys, so what did you think of the joke I sent you?

colleague1 : I hated it. So much that I printed it out just so I could shred it.

colleague2 : Yeah, and then I burnt the shreddings.

gawker : Come on, it wasn't too bad. Anyways, it wasn't mine.

colleague1 : Really? It had gawker written all over it.

gawker : Well, we Indians are all pretty much alike.

colleague2 : Yeah, you all stink.

gawker : Sure, sure. So are we doing Indian for lunch?

colleague1 : Yeah.

colleague2 : Thirty minutes.

heydagoodagadi

Our office building has an evening janitor whom I bump into every single day as I'm running downstairs after the day's work is done. Very friendly elderly fellow and always greets me when I meet him. The only problem is, I still don't know what he's been saying to me as a greeting. This is because when I see him and I say "Hey, how you doing", he doesn't wait for the closing notes of my "doing" to die down before he commences his own greeting. In fact, he carefully times his own greeting to begin at the precise moment when I say my "Hey". As a result, what I've been hearing till now as a combined cacophony of our two greetings can be phonetically described as "heydagoodagadi". I'm still trying to figure out which part is mine and, thereby, isolate his vocal frequencies from the mix. For all I know, he might have been asking me to go fuck myself. I hope not because I've given this guy considerable love over the years.

Pakistan

A simple way to make Pakistan a democracy would be to make the Army Chief an elected official and the President a chihuahua (or any other non-threatening dog).

M80

I saw an M80 today. A Bajaj M80 on a Pennsylvania road. Okay, it might not have been a Bajaj M80, possibly a Ford M80 or a Goldman Sachs M80 but it was definitely an M80. It had the same vertical mini wingettes straddling the fuel tank and the same bespectacled Indian sitting on it. I couldn't believe my fucking eyes. Actually, I could. If not my eyes, what else am I gonna believe? My ears? Hey, what's that I hear, isn't that an M80? Or nose? Yargh, that smells like an M80. No, I trust my eyes. But I wonder how this thing got here. Does Bajaj have a showroom in the US? Perhaps they have a black market M80 outlet on Oaktree road.

I wonder if they would sell me an Atlas Goldline Super bicycle.

step ex lesb

Last weekend, my colleague had to drive four hours to his step-sister's daughter's birthday party which was being celebrated at his step-sister's ex-husband's house where he watched her ex-husband have a fight with his step-sister's lesbian ex-lover over the custody of the kid.

So quit complaining about your life.

Animals

I remember the exact point in my life when I became an animal lover. It was back in India and I was around 8 years old, maybe 10. A construction lorry had pulled up alongside our house. Without warning, the driver backed up into our garden fence and damaged one of the fence posts. He then took off without bothering to wait for justice to be meted unto him. I was furious. I ran behind the lorry driver, following him from inside my garden, screaming little child epithets. Even at that young age, I was well versed in the art. When I reached the end of our domain, I had to quit, my progress being thwarted by a neighbor's fence. That is when my attention wandered to the property across the road and I saw a dog, who had also been chasing the lorry from inside his garden and had been similarly foiled by his own fence. I marveled at how the dog had correctly determined that a crime had been committed and had taken it upon himself to extract justice for his human neighbor.

As the two of us watched the receding silhouette of the miscreant vehicle, it dawned upon me that animals have as great a sense of moral outrage against society's evildoers as do humans, if not greater.

Even today, when I go back home and look at the bent fence post (which still stands bent), I think of that dog and our joint crusade against injustice.

Stupid post

You know what I hate? When I write a stupid post and make the mistake of linking to CNN in my post and then my stupid post shows up as linking to the CNN article on the CNN website and then a ton of people from all over the world come to my blog from CNN and read my stupid post. Really hate when that happens. A man should be able to write stupid posts in peace without having people from all over the world come and read it. What's that you say, a man should quit writing stupid posts instead? Now you're just being stupid.

Stripes

When I was young, my mom forbade me from wearing anything with vertical stripes because she believed it made me look longer and skinnier than I was and I was already quite long and skinny. Consequently, I had a shitload of horizontal stripes and not a single vertical stripe during my mid to late childhood.

I think now would be a good time for me to test if my mom's Vertical Stripes Theory does indeed hold water.

Sad Day

When terrorists shoot a cricketer, they call it a sad day for cricket. When I get shot, I wonder if it will be a sad day for software development.

PS : I actually think it will be a happy day just because of my horrific programming techniques.

Boot

I keep forgetting which word Americans don't understand, "boot" or "trunk" of a car. By the time I figure that out, the conversation has already ended. Due to this peculiar handicap of mine, I have been unable to participate in the last twenty or so boot or trunk related conversations I have been witness to. And the most vexing part is that I have a lot to contribute to this topic. I might not have a PhD in boot theory or trunk mechanics but I do know my automobile storage compartments.