Thursday, December 13, 2007

From Simple to Simpleton

This is sort of a followup to my previous post. So, if you haven't read the previous one, go read it. And also the comments that some people have been kind enough to leave. Otherwise, this one won't make any sense. Not that I ever make sense, but...

So..... since y'all (spoken with a true Texan drawl) have been asking what made me write that about daughters and women....

It was just idle musing one morning while I was stuck in traffic on I280. And because just a little while back, I had spent a few seconds scratching my head to make sure that I had spelt daughter correctly in some conversation. I just connected the dots. Voila! C'est tout!!

However, note how all the women have objected and are trying to find deep hidden meanings behind a simple obvious observation. I rest my case!

Men, on the other hand are quaking in their boots. Why? Because men are such simple creatures. For example, look at this (courtesy CNN: Weirdest work stories of the year):

Alleged robber asks victim out for date

After two men robbed a Domino's Pizza delivery woman, one of them called the victim from his cell phone to apologize -- and to ask her out.

Hmm... basic instincts, eh? It's a fine line between simple and simpleton, I suppose!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Fraternizing With the Enemy

Have you ever wondered why daughter is such a complicated and hard to spell word as opposed to son?

Well, lovable creatures though they are, you can't deny that women are more complicated and difficult than men. That's why!

Monday, October 29, 2007

What's That! A Baby's Journey of Discovery...

A few weeks back, my 1 year old son's flailing hand inadvertently bumped into his groin while his diaper was off. And he had just made one of the first major discovery about his own body! Since then, whenever his diaper is off, he wants to make sure that his treasure is still there and hasn't fallen off. You can almost see the relief on his face that mommy and daddy haven't taken that away too like they take away all other useful weapons such as knives and sharp pointed pencils. Occasionally, if he happens to be standing up with his diaper off, his visual curiosity gets the better of him, so he thrusts his hips forward, curves his back and gazes adoringly down between his legs at the.. umm.. acorn, as one very fascinated and sharp little girl once called it!

Ah, but this was only the beginning of the journey. Next in the list of his discoveries were those curious little round bumps on his chest. "Oooh, I can flick my fingers against them," he must have thought, "What a cool toy!" Now, the earlier relief in his eyes had been replaced by glee! For he could tell that these are not detachable, and so cannot be taken away. A keen discerning observer will often be able to spy this smart little one year old standing shirtless in the middle of the room, with both his hands upon his chest bumps, flicking his fingers against them gleefully. Er, I mean the baby's, not the observer's.

Now, I tried to tell my son, "Look here, sonny boy, a man doesn't do that to his own umm.. nipples. In fact, a man's nipples are probably the most useless thing God ever created, second only to appendix. Wait.. on second thoughts, an appendix can swell, rupture and even kill you. So, its not that useless after all, even though its only known use in humans may be unwelcome and undesirable. Thank God, nipples can't do that. Phew!!

This, however, raises an interesting genesis question. Lets reason this out, shall we? Science claims that a man's nipples are vestigial and serve no fathomable purpose in life. Merriam-Webster's online dictionary defines vestige as: a bodily part or organ that is small and degenerate or imperfectly developed in comparison to one more fully developed in an earlier stage of the individual, in a past generation, or in closely related forms. Note the phrase "in an earlier stage of the individual". Finally, a popular theory of genesis of life proclaims that God made woman from the rib of a man. Well, there is the paradox. If a man's nipples are vestigial but a woman's are not (obviously), then isn't woman an earlier stage of humans? On the other hand, if man is an earlier stage of humanity than a woman as per this evolution theory, then why in the world did God ever give man nipples? Unless, God actually didn't create woman from a man's ribs, but from... umm, never mind... certain people's sensibilities might get offended by any further exploration of this subject.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Overheard at the Pediatrician

Here's a one sided snippet of a telephone conversation I overheard at the pediatrician's office few days back:

Receptionist: Who is the appointment for?
Receptionist: Oh, for you? Are you a child?
Receptionist: You're 16?
Receptionist: Yup. You are a child!!

I guess its tough to be a teenager. On the other hand, we also know some people who kept seeing their pediatrician until they were 25!! :-)

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

The Botonica Identity

Who doesn't like to get comments on their blog. After all, it is very satisfying to your ego to know that people are reading all the crap that you so painstakingly wrote. Imagine, they are wasting their precious time just for you! Gladdens the cockles of your heart, whatever they are.

However, if you can't figure out who left the comment for you, doesn't that drive you up the wall? Especially, if you are the second most curious person in the world, like me?

Now, there are some people whose sign in name says nothing about who they are. But that's ok. I, Grean Sleeves, cannot in all honesty complain about that, can I?

But you can usually figure out who they are. Take lostinlondon, for example. How many people do I know who are actually capable of getting lost in London? Umm, ok, never mind.. Lots! But then how many of them are actually in London right now so they can get lost. Just one. So there!

Then there is Supremus. Again, exactly one person who is egotistical elitist enough to call himself Supremus. Or wait.. was that egoistical elite?

Now, who doesn't know Basanti? No need to even ask her ki uska naam kya hai. Akhir jahan Dhanno, wahin Basanti.

Venusallure. Now that is an alluring name, if any. One can only imagine how alluring the woman behind that name must be. Just like Venus. Or again, wait! Maybe its a guy and he thinks he can allure Venus? God forbid. Well, nothing to worry. This venusallure is a woman for sure. Or so she claims!

Rebellion is actually quite an antithesis of her name. She's anything but a rebel. A very gentle, soft-spoken, sentimental person. But the point is, I know who Rebellion is.

But then, there is Botonica. Now, first of all, what kind of a name is that? BotAnica I can understand. But BotOnica? Huh? After all, its BotAny, not BotOny! (Shut up! GreAn is different from GreEn.) Second, who is she? Yes. She. Not he. Why she? Well, since I don't know who it is, why don't I just make a happy assumption that it is a woman. And while I am at it, let me also assume that she's bewitchingly beautiful as well. And friendly. Yes, that is important. After all, what use is a beautiful woman if she's aloof and standoffish? (Okay, don't answer that! And, let me just fantasize, will ya! What's your problem?)

Well, so the mystery remains. All I know about her is that she reads my blog and leaves occasional comments. Other than that, zilch! Sigh!! Lets all call upon Botonica to reveal her true colors. On a count of 3... 1, 2, 3, Botonica, expose yourself! (Er, that didn't come out quite right, did it?)

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

A Poetical Beginning

Anybody who knows me well knows how incompetent I feel around poetry. What can be a better reason than that to start my blog with a poetical composition of my own!! - the one and only so far (and hopefully forever).

This is inspired by and dedicated to an unexpectedly poetically inclined friend. (Who? Whyyyy do you need to know that?)

Crock & Crumb

I sit here and wonder if I am really that dumb
For poetry leaves me feeling rather numb
When I hear it, all I can do is twiddle my thumb
Argh, what a crock has it turned out to be, this maiden poetical crumb!

There! So, shoot me!!