Things change. They do. And the damned things keep changing all the time. Just when you think you’re getting the hang of things, there they go changing all over again!! A damn nuisance, I tell ya. I understand there are lots of people who actually embrace change. I’m not one to talk with prejudice. Just because they think different from me doesn’t mean they deserve any less respect. Just to clarify things, though, I am not one of those lunatic crackheaded change-junkies.

Oh no. I have an aversion to change. An acute intolerance towards evolving surroundings. And wouldn’t you know it… that turns out to be the ONE thing in this world that remains constant. What do I keep telling ya? A damned conspiracy…

I don’t like to see anything change. Back in school, I couldn’t stand it whenever my folks wanted to redecorate… or recolor… or just move my bed a bit so that I don’t keep falling on my head the first thing in the morning. Every time something like this was proposed, I’d jump up and take arms against the two-crew tag-team, Mom’nDad Inc, like a white-khadi politician hearing about foreign investments proposed in his area. I get nice and cosy within my comfort zone in record time, you see.

When fate decided to kick my butt over to Bangalore some four… five(?)… four and a half years ago, I held on to my dear land, Cochin, with my claws held tight even as my folks dragged me by the feet. But why?? I don’t really know. It wasn’t like Cochin is the ultimate vacation spot for the Gods or something. On the contrary, we have roads that wash away at the mere forecast of a drizzle, traffic that gives ‘bottlenecks‘ a whole new meaning, politicians that make Nixon look like Mahatma Gandhi, and mosquitoes large enough to scare the neighborhood cats.

But after four and a half… five(?)… four and a half years in the IT hub of India, I am deeply entrenched within a self-developed comfort zone here. So once again, I started building my fortress of stability, flinging flaming arrows at changemongers, metaphorically speaking.

That worked for a while, but you can only fight for so long before you realize your fortress has developed a stagnant pool full of dirty dishes and reeks of beer… still speaking metaphorically. The rest of the world has moved on. To make progress, you have to realize your comfort zone, make a conscious effort to break apart, and stop putting things off by sitting on your ass eating popcorn and watching reruns of ‘Friends’.

Right now, my comfort zone is under attack, once again, on the metaphorical level (what can I say… I love metaphors). And it’s getting blitzkrieged from all sides…

1. Mom’nDad Inc. in joint collaboration with its sister concern Aunts’nUncles Ltd. are still hunting high and low for a clear and fatal shot at my very endangered bachelor status;
2. Office dynamics have changed so much that it’s like I am meeting entirely new people as colleagues, although this could be because of the fact that we DO have some new recruits lurking around;
3. My prodigious cousin, Roshan, bagged my prolific friend, Ashy; bound her in an iron-clad legal contract, labeled her his wife, and snuck away in the middle of the night to the United Kingdom. Both Roshan AND Ashika were part of my elaborate comfort couches in Bangalore. With one wide sweep, they’re off!!
4. My long-suffering college-senior turned roomie turned guitar-tutor turned booze-partner turned hopeless-romantic turned permanent wife-hugging-mush-machine, Nash, has turned in his paper on my desk, and is serving his two-three months notice period. He has agreed to carry on serving in the ‘friend’ capacity, but has declined to continue living in the same time-zone that I infest. His company is taking his job to the US, and like a dedicated employee, he plans to jump aboard a plane with his wife logged in as the carry on luggage and yelling at the pilot – “Captain – follow that job!”.
5. Another one of the really good friends I have left in Bangalore, the incredible singing Soopzie, is also bailing ship along with her daughter and hubby, following his new superfantastical job abroad. And she’s working on a VERY short time-frame. She’s already packing clothes, visa, and her six-octave opera voice. Her compass is set for New Zealand, where she will relax for an undisclosed amount of time. She has also agreed to keep in touch. Unlike Nash, I have a WRITTEN agreement from her, though. With her sporadic online presence and limited chat appearances, I couldn’t afford to take chances.

Items 4 and 5 kinda hit me harder than I could have justified. Granted, Nash and Soopzie are close friends, and once upon a time, we had even formed a band that was slated to mercilessly unleash some of my songs to the public. Unfortunately, we got the instructions all mixed up from ‘Build Your Own Band In 10 Easy Steps’ and the very first thing we did; before getting songs, approaching record labels or studios, or even practicing… was to try to get T-Shirts made. Not kidding. The very first step. Anyway, by the end of it all, nothing came out of it (not even the T-shirts)

So, like I was saying… granted, Nash and Soopzie are close friends, but it wasn’t like we met up for cocktail and dinner every other Sunday. I used to meet Nash on those rare occasions when earthquakes, cyclones, or nuclear attacks temporarily displaces the bear hug he keeps on his wife. And I ued to meet Soopzie even less frequently. So the way items 4 and 5 hit me was surprising. They’re moving abroad, but we’d still keep in touch. The internet has that advantage.

So maybe… maybe what really bugged me was that I began to realize the depth of my comfort zone. Perhaps it’s an instinctive reaction telling me that maybe it’s time for me to follow suit; pack up and jump across the ocean to a new land for a while. Maybe I should tell my comfort zone to bugger off. Maybe I should bid adieu to Bangalore.

Funny. I suddenly feel like… like just sitting on my ass eating popcorn watching old reruns of ‘Friends’

I’ve HAD it! It’s a goddamn antediluvian conspiracy. And I’m not talking about the conspiracy to get me to use ‘antediluvian’ in the wrong context. I’m talking about something bigger. Bigger, meaner and revolving around a common target… meeee.

Granted, I spend most of my time in Bangalore feverishly avoiding work by pretending to look busy. But I’m only human. I need my rest too. So I make it a plan to make monthly excursions into the land of constant puddles, broken roadways, dirty politics and workers on strike… Cochin, my hometown. The plan is consistent. Go rushing into the tired but waiting arms of the team known as dad and mom, and get pampered and smothered; get away from the drudgery of pretending to work. Fun days.

But something has misaligned the equation a bit, and I am not a happy camper. At least, I haven’t been, in my last few visits home. I fell sick. And I’m not talking ‘he’s-got-a-mild-fever-he’ll-have-to-take-a-few-days-off’ kind of sickness. I’m talking kick-ass-sicko kinda weird stuff that makes you stay awake at night coughing out gallons of the icky ooze. I was sicker than I’ve been in quite a long time… It was as if fate was converging on me; cornering me like a cowardly bully with a baseball bat.

When it rains, it pours. They handed me a not-so-neat dirty cocktail of headache, nausea, mild fever, productive cough, cold, muscle cramp, fatigue, throat infection, and - introducing the star ingredient - wheezing… Now, I do not handle sickness very well, often twisting, squirming, and being a general annoyance to people in the vicinity when the only ailment I face is a headache from watching too much TV. And this fiendish cocktail was just not my cup of tea. It totally screwed up my mini-vacation at home, and my naturally subsequent wails of woe drove my parents up the wall… and not in the cool spidermanish way.

Anyway, this was the first time I had wheezing. Add to that the characteristic breathing difficulty and throat infection, I sounded like Darth Vader trying to imitate Yoda after about 5 glasses of beer. And for you Star Wars fans out there… stop wondering.. it is NOT cool. SOOO not cool.

And I keep telling ya. It’s a conspiracy. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. I had plans. This wasn’t one of those blissful trips where the plans were mostly revolved around watching movies on dad’s home theater system while munching on mom’s snacks.

I planned to visit cousins, attend a wedding, do some techno shopping, and visit the homes of one of my longtime chat friend, Anya. I did all of it, mind you, but I was about as active as a sedated cat. Couldn’t speak much because of the breathing thingy, couldn’t walk much because of… well, the same thingy…

And to top that all, I couldn’t even access the net. I was only able to login for about a minute or so, and that too, when I got to Anya’s place. And all this while The Offended Blogger’s new ultra uberkickass directory Humor Bloggers dot com got revamped to glory. And still no net connect. My dad’s comp was broken. It was packed and sent off to the repair guys at this precise juncture… coincidence? conspiracy? You deci… No, thank you. I’ll decide. Not that I don’t trust you. Come on, why would I not trust you?? I’m not some crazed paranoid lunatic. Honest. Hey, it isn’t paranoia if there really ARE people in black suits and glasses waiting for me to fall asleep so that they can siphon my blood for weird tests.

Then I got back to Bangalore, ready to keep up the work pretense… it was harder to do sounding like Darth V imitating Y, but I managed one day somehow… and what do you know… the darned sickness is back at my throat again… Had to take another day off from work yesterday… And on the exact same day, the net connection at my Bangalore crib broke apart!! I had no internet connection till evening!! I smell conspiracy again. I think something big went down yesterday… and the forces that may were trying to keep me out. They figured if they keep me sick, sicker and sickest, I’ll just lie low and let things roll… and those guys wanted to keep me out of the loop. What guys? Just guys… Not you, of course… just.. you know.. guys… or gals. I can’t be sure. One thing’s for certain, though… I’m keeping my eyes open. You do that too. If you see something suspicious… Something BIG and suspicious, give me a whistle.

I got tagged by Amooma.

Online Tag is a curious ball game. It’s a mix of the childhood games Tag and Follow The Leader. You get tagged, you gotta do what the tagger has done… which usually means answering some questions and filling some lists found on the tagger’s blog. A one sided interview of sorts. At least that’s how I understand it.

Most of the tags I see seem to be serious, honest, and straightforward; but I don’t think that’s a rule… just a guideline… so I think I’ll do ok.

So.. phew… huff huff… <deep breath>… blublrugrrrragh.. Ok, I’m ready. Bring em on…

Eight Things I Am Passionate about.

1. Movies - I’ve been an ardent movie fan for as long as I can remember… probably longer. Hollywood has left a deep imprint on my thick skull and I tend to correlate a lot of things in daily life to movies I’ve seen. I see people’s resemblance to some obscure movie personality even when there is none. I don’t let facts get in the way of rationalizing my movie mania.
2. Music - I’m a die hard music fan, not in the sense that I am immortal or anything, but in the sense that the music fan in me will always be alive and kicking. And I adore most genres, be it rock, metal, rap, concertos, punk, or techno, even though anyone who forces me to listen to ghazals better be wearing body armor.
3. Books - I used to be a voracious reader. Even today, I try to fake being a voracious reader as far as possible.
4. Writing - Of course I’m not talking about writing job reports and presentations. And if you want to be technically correct here, it’s ‘typing’, not ‘writing’. I haven’t actually ‘written’ a complete paragraph on paper in roughly 230 years, give or take a few.
5. Sleeping - Oh, I don’t get to do this much. But I am passionate about it. Unfortunately, Movies takes top priority and steals time reserved for ’sleeping’… Every night, it’s a battle - Sleeping v/s Movies… and it’s violent. I swear.. one day, Sleeping is going to murder Movies in its… in its sleep(?)…. Oh… Oh yeah. That’s not gonna happen
6. Cooking - I like to cook. I do. It’s something I enjoy almost as much as forcing people to eat what I cook. “Open your mouth RIGHT NOW, dammit, and eat that damned cabbage, or you’re going to pay for this… And stop that wailing.“. The real trouble is cleaning up after, which usually takes an army of 4 trained maids and a fireman.
7. Restaurant visits - I’ve tried out more restaurants in Bangalore than Michael Jackson has tried faces. I’m a foodie, and I look the part.
8. The internet - I spend more time surfing the net than Santa Claus spends on toy shopping. And at the end of the day, I am about as clueless as to what or why I was surfing as ever.

Eight Things I Want To Do Before I Die

1. Learn music - Plans are already under way. I learned a bit on the keyboard a while back, and used the comp to get music for a few of my songs done. And I recently took up the guitar. I put it back down shortly, but there’s hope.
2. Write a book - Right now, I am neither courageous nor drunk enough to quit my day job and run amok in the uncertain pursuit of a premise that perhaps I may get a book published. But someday… I will be. Two bottles of tequila ought to do it, I think.
3. Travel the world - I know! I surprised myself when I typed that in. I’m not typically the traveling guy. I thought that if I had it my way, mostly I’d only need to leave my room to refill essential supplies. But I guess I DO like the outside world. Maybe a world tour is in order.
4. Try authentic cuisine from around the world- Ok, ok. NOW I get why I put in point number 3. Sheesh. I have a one track mind.
5. Practice my drawing skills - I had started this blog for that very purpose. But it kinda died down… Stupid laze.
6. Get my music released - I’ve got a few songs under my belt… I just don’t know how to get the background music done. I tried getting a band together with a couple of cool friends, but they weighed the pros and cons, and finally decided to get married instead. Someday, I’ll unleash my songs on an unsuspecting world… Someday. Somehow.
7. Win the battle of the bulk - I have to stop resembling a balloon that looks like it would go ‘pop‘ when pricked with a needle. I don’t know how, and I don’t see myself throwing away chocolate cake and caramel custard pudding or lifting weights in order to reach this objective, but I should develop some sort of resentment to reaching ‘critical mass’… Survival of the fattest is a myth.
8. Learn ballet - Just kidding. I can’t think of any more stuff right now.

Eight Things I Say Often

1. ‘na?’ - at the end of sentences, as in “This is true, na?”, “You can just follow that bus, na?”, which kinda means “isn’t it?”, “can’t you”, etc… It’s a bad habit I kinda picked up from a chat friend, Priyanka, and everytime I say this, I want to spiritually jump out of my body so that I can kick my own ass.
2. ‘dammit’ - Not quite the heavyweight when it comes to stressbusting words, I admit. But dammit, it works fine for me.
3. ‘well,…’ - Well, it’s not like I like it, but… well, you know… it’s kinda hard to get over the habit…
4. ‘kinda’ - Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming. I kinda DO misuse this one.
5. ‘come on’ - Come on, everybody overuses this, don’t they?
6. ‘i guess’ - Handy little phrase. It allows you to give blanket statements in a non-committal manner, I guess.
7. ‘you know’ - Again quite handy. It implies that the listener already knows the answer and hence you kinda don’t really have to explain things fully, you know.
8. ‘aloha’ - I use this one ALL the time. It stands both for ‘hello’ AND for ‘goodbye’ - the perfect word for those who don’t know if they’re coming or going…

Eight Books/Blogs/Journals I Have Read Recently.

Hmm… So many to choose from.. I’ll just pick some at random.

1. Silverine - The most popular Mallu blogger in the blogosphere, I think. Reading her blog keeps the sanity level in check for most Keralites living out of their state.
2. Offended Blogger - Chelle B, one of the funniest and most captivating bloggers I’ve read. And her stamina is amazing. She writes an explosive article every day on the average…
3. Amooma - A refreshing and honest outlook on random things…
4. Dennis Miller - Ranting Again - I know. It’s an old book and the politics mentioned are soooo obsolete. But then again, I don’t really follow current events that much. So how does it matter to me? His writing has a very unique appeal.
5. Calvin and Hobbes - Revenge of the Babysat - Of course I can’t be sure, but I think last night marked my 3267th reading of the book.. Calvin and Hobbes is a classic for all time…
6. Wet Spark - Mathew’s blog is a pitt-stop. I go there time to time to recharge my batteries
7. Cracked - It has a series of writeups for all kinds of people. And I am all kinds of people. So hooyah!
8. IMDB - The Internet Movie Database. The ultimate movie site. Given that I’ve been a devout devotee of Hollywood and its spawns, it’s only a matter of time before I start praying to IMDB and offer routine sacrifices.

There are lots of other blogs/ books that I regularly read, but these are the ones I read between yesterday and today.

Eight Songs I Would Listen To Over and Over

1. ‘Savin Me‘, by Nickelback - Oh, yes. I got into the Nickelback fever only a month back, and I’ve been listening to this track over and over and over and over and over and.. you get the picture. I tried singing this in office once. They shut office rather prematurely that day. Chad Kruger’s vocal range is not within my grasp… except for maybe -
2. ‘If Everyone Cared‘, by Nickelback - Possibly as a personal favor to me, Chad sang this song in a vocal range that won’t really make my throat bleed. Thanks, man. Appreciate it.
3. ‘Living On A Prayer‘, by Bon Jovi - Bon Jovi wasn’t as considerate, with the pitch on some parts of the song reaching levels that give me nightmares. Still… great song.. how can I resist trying? Irrespective of how the people around find it hard to cope with.
4. ‘Enna Vilai Azhake?‘, from the movie Kadhalaar Dhinam - Lovely song… Can drift away in it…
5. ‘Pirates of the Caribbean Theme‘, by Hans Zimmer - Zimmer’s music is the awesomest fantasticmost piece of work I’ve ever heard, and I don’t even care that I just made up those words. And his influence in the music for Pirates of the Caribbean is the best so far. Try to get a clear version of the music and play in a high end system, and you will know what I mean.
6. ‘Broken Arrow Theme‘, by Hans Zimmer - Ok, ok, so this is a tie, actually. Broken Arrow Theme v/s Pirates of the Caribbean Theme… The jury’s still out. But that doesn’t affect the fact that Hans Zimmer is the best.
7. ‘Yesterday Once More‘, by The Carpenters - This 60s song is a childhood favorite of mine. Maybe my most favourite song of all time.
8. ‘You’ll Be In My Heart“, by Phil Collins - So you see, I don’t like Phil just because he’s bald. I love many of his songs, and this one is sorta my favourite. Sweet.lyrics, great vocals… from a great movie.

There are other songs that qualify to be here. The list is just too long to write here… or anywhere…

Eight Things In Others That Attract Me

1. Sense of humor - I am TERRIFIED of people who don’t have a sense of humor. And with good cause, too. I’m sure that my fate involves being bludgeoned to death by someone with no sense of humor.
2. Ambition - I’m not talking about ‘I’ll-take-over-the-world-and-make-people-bow-to-solid-gold-figures-in-my-likeness‘ kind of ambition… Smaller ambitions will do just fine. I just don’t want people to think living in the basement with a mug of popcorn and a bag of DVDs would be the right… Hmm… basement? popcorn? movies? sounds interesting…
3. Selflessness - I would have thought that this trait is more or less extinct at this time. Who would really put other people’s interests ahead of their own? But pleasantly, I’ve found a few people in life who met the criteria… Namitha from college, my brother, some of his friends… nice.
4. Intelligence - Intelligence counts. But then again we live in a world that put George Bush in charge of a country. In any case, intelligence SHOULD count. I dream of a world where people with pitchforks, knives and shovels bury Paris Hilton.
5. Honesty - Thankfully, this trait seems to be in good supply. Sure, there are bad apples here and there, but bad apples can still keep doctors away if you throw them REALLY hard. It might actually do a better job too. Maybe you can just take the seeds from the bad apples and plant trees or something… It also depends on how bad the apples already are. So if only parts of the apples are spoiled, you can always just take a knife and…. wait a minute. What am I writing about bad apples in my blog for?. Give me a minute while I read back a bit…. Oh… Ooooh. Uh-oh. I guess I strayed from the point a bit. I tend to do that at times. Let’s move on.
6. Art - I dunno. I’m a sucker for art. I met many of my friends after I’ve fallen flat out for their drawings, writings, and music. I especially go goo-goo ga-ga over musicians. I’m drawn to them like a m. to a f. Can’t help it. Not really a nice trait; especially if the musicians hire people to beat you on the head with sticks.
7. Kiddishness - I love kids. Especially the really old kids like my dad. Some people keep that child within them alive. I like that.
8. Rationality - Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE irrational people. It’s just that even they should have short streaks of objective reasoning.

Now… who do I tag? Hmm… Let me see… There are lots of people I want to tag, like Silverine, The Offended Blogger, Scott Adams, Dave Barry, etc.. but they don’t look like they entertain tags. I’ll just pick out a few people at random…

1. Macadamia the Nut - Who has barely dried her tears from crying over how many tags she is burdened with.
2. Arvind - The quintessential Don Juan, who left a mark-o…
3. Shomo - A brand new blogger.. for good measure

“Everything that can be invented has been invented” - said the US patent office commissioner in 1899. And over the past century, people have been burying that statement in an avalanche of inventions… around 100,000 inventions on an annual basis. You GOTTA stop and wonder - 100, 000??? Really? What are these guys inventing, for crying out loud. How come we don’t see many of these in action? Did they finally make that hoverboard from the Back To The Future movies?

Important, persistent, unanswered questions. The key to the answer is that not all new products make it big. Some products make life changing developments that would shape the course of history to come… err… also known as the future. And other products end up on my blog.

I was visiting the new branch of ‘Staples‘ near Koramangala yesterday, and I found a product that they are aggressively promoting. It seemed like a joke at first, but on closer inspection, you can see that while the company seems to take it seriously, it still remains a joke.

It is called ‘The Easy Button’. I wanted to put a photo with me holding it up in the Staples store, but couldn’t because of three reasons -

1. Too much trouble loading the pic to the comp - I have to turn my room upside down, looking for the cable, hook up the camera, take the download software, etc etc etc.. Not worth it. You know I’m too lazy for all that, right?
2. No batteries - Even if I DO find the cable, I can’t proceed without batteries now, can I? And it’s 2:30 a.m. over here now. Where am I going to get batteries at this time of night? Thought about that? I didn’t think so.
3. No images - So even if I DO find the cables… AND I ’somehow’ get batteries for the camera, I still can’t upload the pictures. I never took photos. I wanted to put up some photos, and I had a vague idea about how the pics should be like, but I never got around to getting the photos done.

We can sit here for hours arguing about why I didn’t put up the pictures… or we can just make do with this picture I got off the internet… that way, I can go right ahead with my blah blahs on the product.

It is called an easy button, or the Staples Easy Button, to be accurate. It is a radical stress relieving device for the office. According to the product description, it is the perfect way to relax, unwind and de-stress from a hard and stressful day.

And how does the miracle product work? Imagine a stressful day at the office. You are loaded with yet another last minute assignment with limited budget, poor resources, and an insane timeline with senior management barking your head off every seven minutes. You barely get enough time to tear your hair out in justified frustration. Just when you feel there is no hope in sight, you reach out for the miracle product. You press the big red button and it says in a chirpy, battery powered voice - “That was easy”… with a special emphasis on the word ‘That‘.

It comes with preloaded batteries, so that you can hear the words right from the display. And the pack comes with the tagline - “Don’t stress it. Just press it!!!” - and they said innovation in advertisement is dead. Tut tut.

I would have expected most people react to the concept the same way I did - Say stuff like “Awww… look at that… they encourage ’special’ people in product development these days”, but still keep a safe distance from it. However, when I looked it up online, I found out something quite distressing. It seems the product is a great hit. You can get your very own copy from Amazon.

Now THAT is creepy. I have to question the sanity of a world which would make this product a success. In a real world scenario, if I did some particularly hard work which makes me pant and gasp, and while I’m basking in the limelight of having done something big, if someone comes to me with a big smile and tells me - “Hey, THAT was easy”, I’d bash his face in with a rod, and keep bashing until the next words he says would be coming from the back of his head… Hmm… Talk about creepy.

But that wouldn’t work with this wondertoy. If you hit it, it will simply repeat the words,”That was easy”, no matter what the task, no matter what the situation, no matter who presses it…

“Oh, GOD!!! I did it! I DID IT!! Seven years of 18 hour workdays at the lab, forgoing basic hygiene, losing touch with the outside world, and enduring cafeteria food, but I finally did it. This drug can cure cancer! God, I can’t believe the stress… “

<BEEP>

“That was easy!”

“Wha??? Whatha? Why you little…”

<BANG! - Beeeep>

“That was easy!”

“No, it wasn’t! No, it wasn’t, you hear me, you piece of…”

<BIFF! - Beeeep>

“That was easy!”

“Easy? I don’t have any friends anymore. My wife left me, and my kids don’t recognize me. Call that easy?? Nancy! Get me that hammer! I oughta…”

<KICK! - Beeeep>

“That was easy!”

“Easy? Nancy? Where’s that hammer? Let me see how you like this, you little…”

<BANG! THUD! BIFF! BOP! POW! THUD THUD THUD - Be-e-e-e-e-e–e-eeep>

“Tha… Tha.. Tha… Tha… That… Tha… Th… That was easy!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!!!!!”

And while he’s dragged away by the authorities promptly alerted by, say, Nancy, I’m sure he won’t be agree that the little red button was designed to relieve stress. And yet… the Staples Easy Button is a hit. I am trying to rationalize this; thinking of a scenario that justifies this while maintaining an optimistic view of the world at large. Hopefully, the major market for the Staples Easy Button is the inebriated crackhead on an especially idiotic day. And hopefully, the next day, when he sees it sane and sober through his hangover, he’d go - “Crap.That was stupid!”

It never ceases to amaze me how you can find people with radically different problems in life. And life, in its infinite wisdom, chooses to scatter its resources rather unjustly. Bloke A may be running through life looking for something; the same stuff that bloke B might be throwing away by the bucketloads. For example, I might be… err… a random chap might be obese to the point that commercial aircrafts draw straws to see which one gets to take him on board. Whereas Baroness Queenie Von Meanie might be diving head first into chocolate cheesecakes, trying to gain some weight on herself so that she doesn’t fly away when people sneeze.

Likewise, frequent readers of the blog would know that right now, I jump hedges, dig holes, jump in, and cover myself with dirt, simply avoiding the topic of marriage. Meanwhile, allegedly on the same planet, we have Queenie Von Teeny who makes it clear that if she doesn’t get married in the shortest possible time, she’ll hold her breath until she turns blue, or until she feels the need to breathe, whichever comes first. But at least she didn’t PLAN to be this way. She was pretty sane and normal to an extent, until she met her guy, after which something snapped inside of her.

But on the very same overburdened bewildered planet, we see another breed of ‘bride-to-be’s. She’s in a cushy, comfortable relationship where neither party is in any hurry to race to the altar and seal the deal in ink. And it’s not just because they’re lazy to the core. ‘Things are going good, so why change stuff?’ - is the philosophy. When the time is right, they’ll cement the deal.

But what if he’s not ready at that time? Don’t you worry about that.

She has a plan. Hell, she has a 20 page script.

She rushes in ahead of him, makes sure things are in order. Makes sure the hidden stay hidden…. makes sure the props are in place… and then he walks in. She gets him seated in place, starts mild chit-chat. Nothing too serious… You know - the regular blah blah yada yada stuff…

Meanwhile, from behind the curtains, the priest starts the sermon, but in low murmur, so that the groom isn’t prematurely made aware that he is in fact, a groom.

Some giggles will invariably come from under the sofa, where the bridesmaids will be hiding, of course. Can’t help that. Those pesky chatterboxes. She will have to pretend it’s coming from the TV or something… But wait… the TV is off, and the groom’s not stupid. D’oh!

No worries. No worries. She can pretend it’s her new ringtone! Muffled giggles as ringtones… that could work!

She gives him some bills that he has to sign on. Camera zooms in to reveal that she has cleverly taped the marriage license underneath, with a piece of carbon paper to get the signature through. (Incidentally, this marriage license would have special clauses about policies relating to who has power over the remote control, joint accounts, and a teeny clause about getting the toilet seat bolted in a particular position)

And then the priest reaches the cruicial part of the sermon. This is where it gets tricky. Timing has to be perfect.

Priest gives signal…

Her: Hey, honey…

Him: Yeah, babes..?

Priest(barely audible) : Do you… 

Her: Remember that dress I bought last week?

Him: Errr… which one?

(She makes carefully rehearsed face)

Him: No, wait. I got it, I got it… Yeah. I remember it. I mean… like, completely!

Priest: ...take ...lawfully wedded wife...

Her: Well, do you like it?

Him: Yeah, yeah… It’s lovely… It’s that lovely pink… beig… I mean… It’s great. Beautiful. Suits you very well… I mean… Yes.

Priest: ...to have ...to hold ...sickness ...health...

Her: Yes, what?

Priest: ...death do you part?

Him: Yes, I do..

Priest (top of his lungs): I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBAND AND WIFE, SUCKER!!! HA HA HA!!

And suddenly, the maids of honor, the guests, and the priest come out, yelling “Surprise!!” Champagne bottles are uncorked, jokes are made, speeches are toasted, and paramedics rush to check the groom’s pulse and other vital signs.

She has everything planned. She just needs to get a priest who’s willing to say ’sucker’ in front of an audience. I predict it won’t really be a very pleasant ceremony.

Of course, personally, I plan to jump a hedge, dig a hole, jump in, and cover myself with dirt around that time.

Buckle your seat-belts, cos I have news. Hmm… On second thoughts, this isn’t really the kind of news you can prepare for by buckling seat-belts. What was I thinking?

The breaking news from my side is that I have decided to take another shot at learning the guitar.

I expect all sorts of reactions from people about the news piece, different strokes from different folks, so to speak, but buckling seat-belts do not fall under the immediate reaction. So my bad, I guess. Expected reactions are more along these lines -

1. From people who don’t know me at all -
   • “Oh? That’s nice. Another wanna-be musician. Good luck to him.”
2. From people who know my craze for music -
   • “Wait a minute. He doesn’t know how to play the guitar?? Then what the hell was he doing carrying one around for all those years??”
3. From people who have heard me pluck at the strings -
   • “Wha??? No. Not again. The horror! The horr… sob sob sob…waaaaaaaaaaa” (stupid whiny prehistoric drama queens, the mumblemumble…)
4. From my former roomie and guitar tutor, Nash -
   • “Entamme!! Shut the door! Kill the lights! Jump ship. Hey, if anybody calls and asks for me, tell them… hmm… tell them I died last night.”
5. From the batcave -
   • “Holy dirty laundry, Batman”
   • “Quick! To the batmobile!” (tada-dada-dada-dada…)

In short, I doubt if the larger population would take kindly to my new phase. It might be well in order that I give a sort of background to the whole thing. I am and have always been a rock music enthusiast. In fact, sometimes I think I can blame my hair loss to it.

“Yeah, I swear. One minute I was headbanging to Metallica, and the next thing I know, I won the Phil Collins lookalike contest. If only I hadn’t banged my head so hard…”

And I played a mean air guitar - the imaginary guitar you pretend to hold while listening to a good riff. But I never took classes on the instrument. I was thwarted from that attempt by a story surrounding my dad. My dad is pretty good on the guitar, as with most things. When I was young, people told me about how he cut his fingers on the strings when he started practicing. I had scary visions of my dad sporting tiny fountains of blood from his fingertips. The air guitar was good enough for me.

But the lure of the six stringed temptress was not subtle. I was getting surrounded by musicians, both amateurs and professional. And then I got Nash as my roommate. He kept drilling in the fact of how easy it is to learn the guitar. Oblivious to repercussions, he related his saga of how he coached himself from scratch.

In any case, the next time I went home, I snuck back my dad’s old guitar and started pestering Nash for classes. That wasn’t difficult. I let my pestering hours coincide with his sleeping hours. In effect, I held his sleep hostage.

So amidst groans and between obscure references to the Geneva Convention Treaty, he taught me some of the basics. It didn’t take him long to regret it because my practice hours coincided with his sleeping hours yet again. And if you think it’s easy to catch your forty winks with some idiot with six strings and a plectrum making unseemly, arrhythmic noises throughout your slumber, then come on over - let me give you a free sample. To make a long story short, he hurriedly got married, kicked me out, and slept for around 20 days at a stretch to get over the phase.

And now…I’m back.

I told Nash about my re-entry day before yesterday… And yesterday… I SWEAR this is true - Nash called me up and told me his company is ’sending him’ to America for a while in a week… I have to say… What a co-inky-dink!