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Sunday, February 14, 2016

The semi-private existence.

Of late, the newest thing that has caught my confusion-prone mind is friend requests from Facebook.  To begin with, my spouse and I having worked together at multiple organizations gave us, like 782 mutual friends. Facebook has thus bound us with its own virtual strings, that if he adds someone new, Facebook urges me to add that person as well.  Apparently, Facebook algorithms are so old-school that it doesn’t understand people can have friends, their significant others may not know. I mean jeez ...grow up, you! If he uploads a picture, Facebook pesters me to like it. Basically, Facebook wants us to be together, more than ourselves and our parents. I hate to break this to you, but being a programmer I doubt that rule one of Facebook algorithm could be ‘what God has joined together let app not separate’.


Image Courtesy: Here

When I was single and there was Orkut, new friend requests from cute strangers were like being asked out on a blind date. I visited that person’s profile, showed it off to my friends (if cute) and once done, clicked ‘Remove and block’. Even as a youngster and till date, rule one of my social media existence is to connect with people I already know. I never logged in to meet any stranger because my life is already crowded. Putting up with relatives and friends itself is exhausting I cannot take further shit coming from strangers.

This blog attracts a fair amount of friend requests from strangers, which I deny because people who read my blog have my page to connect. Then there are friend requests that come with attached strings – mutual friends. When I get a friend request with a mutual friend backing, this can slightly mar my peace of mind. To add or not to add? If it is a female, then mostly it is no issue because women hardly add me (they wait for me to add them). Problem is when it is a male I have mutual friends with. My imagination runs so wild until I start thinking; does this man think I am the type of girl who will add anybody that sends me a request? I know I have gone too far, but let me be frank here, I think that. The answer to this question lies in the click of the button which says ‘Remove request’. I answer my own weird questions. The bottom line is, I suffer from a condition, in which I want to look social but in reality I am not. (This hurts)

Some of my friends say that they add people if they can find mutual friends with that person. Mutual friends are like recommendations from previous employer. It could be a phone number or address that does not exist. May be these mutual friends added this person for the same reason. Once I found an anonymous phone number on one of my whatsapp girl groups for which I am the admin and none of the members knew whose number it was! Creepy, isn’t it? There shouldn’t be so many strangers in the world, I tell you. Being a semi-private person on social media literally sucks.

So what is meant by ‘semi-private’ you ask? It is a condition in which one posts a picture with a public setting and also blocks the strangers liking it.


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Love and Laughter !

It is the season of love and essentially, one of Karan Johar. The day couples celebrate their love only to update every single detail on Facebook and flood Instagram servers. Single people need not worry; you can watch Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gham on TV because for you, it is about loving your parents.

Image courtesy: Here

I had an unceremonious, rough ride of a romance. So, everything mushy and sweet annoys me and makes me sound like having a sour grape syndrome. It all started in year 2006. I was a fresher and so was he, and we fatefully joined as trainees in the same software firm. Cliché alert- we started off as friends. Soon we started texting and the more we got to know each other, the more we repelled. The fights we had were so bitter that we sent each other hateful messages. Eventually we became stone-hearted and bitter. Days went by.

One day, our employer decided to throw us a party. The restaurant was at least 45 minutes from home. Who cares about reaching home on time when there is free six course buffet meal? At the party I noticed my male buddy-turned-enemy chilling with his friends, having beers and acting like he was having the time of his life. My girl buddies saw it too, but did not discuss about it as my expressions were threatening enough to shut them up.

Time passed. I was getting increasingly intolerant at the sight of this guy partying hard after pissing me off so badly over sms. I convinced my friends that we should eat fast and get the hell out of that place ASAP. They agreed as it was already around 8:30 p.m. This was the time my parents were likely to go to the nearest police station and register a missing case with my photo(which they probably took to upload in Bharat Matrimony).

As soon as we finished eating one of my girl buddies and I walked to the washroom. As we stood there admiring ourselves in the mirror, HE walked in, gave us a weird look and proceeded to the loo. We were flabbergasted.

Me: ‘I cannot believe I even thought of befriending this guy! Look how shamelessly he walked into the ladies washroom! Did you see that look he gave us?’

Girl Buddy: ‘I KNOW’ !

Me: ‘This time he has definitely crossed the line! What an irresponsible CREEP! Jesus Christ!’
We exited the washroom in total disgust and burning with rage. Outside, our friends were waiting near the gate.

Me: ‘When did you all go to the washroom?’

They: ‘Where were you? We dint see you either..’

I turned and pointed to the washroom I just exited from, on which was written ‘GENTS’.

Somewhere inside me, my ego was burning to death. My friend who accompanied me to that washroom looked at me in horror. Others were obviously laughing their asses off. However it remained a well-kept secret even after I started dating the same guy who pissed me off so hard.  
We got married in 2008.

Later, as newlyweds we went to a friend’s wedding reception.

Me: ‘Going to washroom. Here, keep my phone’.

He: ‘For once, try going to the one written ‘LADIES’ ’.



 This post is a part of #LoveAndLaughter activity at BlogAdda in association with Caratlane.


Thursday, January 28, 2016

How well do you know a Programmer ?

 
Image Courtesy: Here
If someone genuinely asks me what I do for a living I politely dismiss that conversation by saying ‘Software’. This response is so generic that it is like asking me what I had for breakfast and I say ‘Food’. Most people do not ask further questions or prompt me to get into details because who has the time for that, right?  Yes, there are exceptions when a random curious George wants to know exactly what I do. In such scenarios, I humbly reveal that I am a programmer. I get an ‘Oh wow’ or mildly appreciative looks from guys and ‘You Bitch’ looks from ladies. It makes me feel intelligent. I like that feeling. I never had this feeling when I was a student due to obvious reasons, so it is special.

Programmers are NOT nerds and our lives do not suck like it is perceived widely. I mean we are not as hot as the ones you saw in the movie ‘The Matrix’. No, I did not understand any part of that movie but we don’t wear leather body suits and kill people like they did. If you have a programmer friend here are some things you may want to know.

  • A programmer never does the same type of work more than once. Every scenario and logic is different. Hence, they get easily bored unless something or someone is very spontaneous and exciting. We hate anything that is mundane.
  • There is no rule book for any programming language. If an extra space or worse, a dot is typed into the code, the program gets pissed and throws errors as if we broke up with it. We handle super-sensitive tantrum throwing humans with ease.
  • A programmer analyzes codes; they are hawk-eyed by default. They read between the lines. If you plan to date a programmer, pay attention to macroscopic details. Bro, she is going to find that stain on your shirt, unkempt nails and unpolished shoe and judge you on the first sight.
  • They apply logic not only in their codes but also in their lives. No programmer ever got hitched to a politician.
  • Programmers get mad when they are required to change a code that was already written and tested. We don’t like change.
  • Once a program is saved without errors it creates a version in the system. So, if we don’t murder you even after you show your true colors, you have successfully created a version with us and you are special, my friend, truly special.
  • Programmers have debugged a lot of errors, so they know all typical error types. This applies to human beings too. We never forget. If the programmer in question is a woman, then God help you.
  • Writing a program requires patience and passion. We cannot hate our job and write a logically correct program at the same time. We are driven by passion. We don’t write a single line of code just for fun.
  • Programmers have dealt with a lot of major disasters which were a result of trivial errors. Do not mess with us. We have the experience of deleting entire programs and make it look like it dint exist.

If you piss off a programmer, just know that what follows will be a CODE RED situation.

Hit ESCAPE ! 


Sunday, January 17, 2016

Evil resolutions !

I realize we are in the third week of 2016 already, and my blog is still in 2015 waiting to catch up.  During Christmas holidays, I was supposed to teach my son a dialogue to be recited at his school Republic Day parade. Like the terrible procrastinating Mom that I am, I did not even read the dialogue myself. Of course I was and still am not a fan of mugging up stuff, and definitely not a fan of doing anything during the holidays. Well, teacher put a lot of pressure on me after, threatening to pass that dialogue to some other child. This is Kindergarten I am talking about, my friends, kindergarten.  Sigh. Let’s observe a moment of silence to all the Kindergarten toddlers who are going to be ripped off their childhood, teenage and youth by this overbearing pressure under the excuse of education.

Soon after, the dialogue was learnt, and teacher said all is well but the word ‘Republic’ did not come easy to my four year old. To be honest that is a word even I don’t get right in the first attempt. Many unsuccessful recitals with Replublic, Republi and Relublics later, it came. Republic Day. 
Man. I have double the count of hair on my head now as I tore apart each and every single one of them in the process. 

New Year also rang in good things for our living room, gadget wise. New speakers, woofer and Surround Sound have come so that now, there is literally NO ESCAPE. Hubby’s movies, mostly involving more missiles than people are now creating war zone right there and I can feel fighter planes chasing me to the bathroom. I think in everyone’s life, there comes a time to sing ‘Let it Go..Let it Go…Turn away and slam the door’. Mine is now. There has never been a more meaningful song.

Image Courtesy: Here

Now that it is the third week from New Year one can almost hear resolutions crashing down on Pizza Hut. This is why I told you, not to have any ‘pla’. I dint and still don’t have a ‘pla’ so nothing crashed apart from my plans of buying new curios for the living room. Now it is occupied with so much stuff that it has been impossible to walk around freely. The silver lining is, I don’t sleepwalk so the chances of me bumping into a speaker and dying are minimal. Possible, but minimal.

Mummy’s cakes that got delivered around the 20th of December were finished even before Christmas so, now there will be a long wait before I taste another piece. Yesterday I called her on Facetime and she showed me a piece she was eating right in front of me without even feeling guilty about it. Evil, I say.  In return, I gave her a piece of err… my mind. Few minutes later, Papa also appeared and before asking me how I was, he said to Mom ‘Did you show her the cake?’.

Apparently my parents’ resolution for New Year is to be evil.

Unlike other resolutions, it is running successfully in its third week. 

GRRR.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

I Have No 'Pla' for 2016.Thank You.

From a blogger point of view, the good thing about year-end is the mandatory ‘year-that-was’ post. I am extremely proud to say that this year was as unproductive as the years before. As I have not set any goals for myself, I have no scope for improvement or anything to achieve. Wow that line would be perfect in the ‘About me’ section of my resume. Who wouldn’t want to recruit me?

If eating a lot of food, mastering few new recipes, visiting a new country and making some weird friends count as achievements, then yeah, 2015 had indeed been a fruitful one.  Like every year, I came across people I’d never want to meet again but there is no other way we can come back to appreciate the people in our lives. There had been no change in my patience level, though. However, I did meet some short-tempered people who taught me that I am more mature than I give myself credit for. When Monica asked Phoebe whether she has any plans, Phoebe's epic reply really defined my whole existence. 

Image Courtesy: Here

When there is no plan and you don't even try, that is when life is enjoyed best. I tell you, we are not going to the grave with our updated resumes (I don’t know about you, but I can go freely because my resume went before me).

Never in my life have I set resolutions for New Year. If I feel I should lose weight I take necessary measures from that day. If I feel I should let something go, I sing the ‘Let it Go’ song from Frozen and annoy everyone(but don’t let it go). I do not wait for the first of January to start doing anything because I do not like to think of life as a project which has a kick-off date and a deadline. It is completely ironic to feel this way because I am a software person and I am ALWAYS somewhere between a kickoff and a deadline myself. Still, surprises and suspense are best enjoyed when there is no 'pla'. But there is a catch to that. When something comes our way, we have to make a decision.

Decisions. They are hard. No one ever escaped from decisions. Even a baby has decisions to make- mostly whether to keep the parents up at night or show some sympathy and go to sleep. It is mostly up to the baby. We have decisions of a different kind to make. Most of them translate into –should I be stupid or wise? Stupid always sounds great. Wisdom is painful just like the teeth it is named after. Anyone can advise but in the end, decisions are ours to make- which is why always stupid sounds great. Anyway, what is life without making stupid mistakes, right? In my case, how many mistakes is the question. I still have (N+1) to make before I start getting clarity about people in general. Well, what can I say? I actually met a colleague from my hometown who said he will bring stuff from my Mom as he was traveling back to Muscat on Christmas. Later when he reached here, he came to my house completely drunk, and even missed to give me the gift Mom sent to my hubby on Christmas. Later, I had to ask him about the missing item (which was embarrassing for me NOT for him apparently), and then I got the hint. After the whole episode, my family pointed fingers at me – How do you even find such people and make them friends? That requires a special skill you know?

I have friends, who are absolute gems. I don’t want to name them here, but they are there on messenger at 3 a.m. to listen to my rants. Then I meet people and make them friends and shit happens. End of the day one expensive Christmas gift sent by Mom to her son-in-law turned son is gone with the wind, thanks to my expertise in choosing friends.

I just hope 2016 is better wisdom wise. 

On a completely different note - All you 8 people who unfollowed my blog – what did I do to you? Please tell me! Of course, you unfollowed and are probably not reading this. I wish that the wrong people I met in 2015 meet you in 2016. Good luck! **evil laugh**

Happy New Year all MY READERS! May your year be full of fun, love and laughter! **smiling innocently**


Thursday, December 10, 2015

Waiting for Santa!

December- when the living room mess becomes less noticeable as the Christmas tree stands tall and majestic in the corner. My living room has become jam-packed with stuff the existence of which has now become questionable. As if this is not disaster enough, it is during Christmas when there will be guests. Good luck all you guests. We will probably put your stuff under the tree. *Evil grin*.

My little one was very excited about decorating the tree that he was after me for putting it up from October itself. If only I had a nickel every time I said ‘No baby, the Christmas tree will be up only in December’ in various frequencies and wavelengths and tones and tunes all through November. So the first weekend of December, the enthusiastic Mom and son that we are, brought the box from the ruins and started tree building. However, my son was blissfully unaware of the pain part of it as he thought a fully decorated tree will knock the door, catwalk into the house and sit where it has to. I had a small discussion with the father and son that setting up a Christmas tree and decorating it involves effort, just like there is for cooked food on the table and fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Some feathers were mighty ruffled with that sentence as I got death stares and a collective walkout in protest.

When I opened the box and unpacked the tree which has a base, screws, and multiple bunches of leaves each having a code, corresponding code on the stem of the tree, and a user manual, the male members of my family had already vanished. Of course they will later invite their friends to see the tree and click pics alongside it, and pretend that they painstakingly built it from scratch, when I will royally stand in some corner like a complete loser. Story of my life my friends, story of my life.

*sigh*

Christmas shopping was a big deal when I was younger because that’s when we got new clothes. Well, nowadays it is a big deal if I don’t buy new clothes. When my son was younger he used to give me company during shopping. Now he is four, all man and can’t stand the sight of apparel stores. The Y chromosome, I tell you. It repels all things good, pretty and pink. Both father and son have to go to that video game store to stare at all the astronomically priced junk. I am like ‘Hey, I bought him snakes and ladders… Jigsaw puzzles, Ludo. …What is wrong with those games? They are cheap too. With this kind of money I could buy some gold you know’.

“Can you race in Ferrari cars with that gold?’ came the prompt response.


Image Courtesy: Here
 Of course, who am I kidding, right?
I just have to take it with a pinch of salt and hold on to my sanity just like I do when there are missing socks. No matter how branded they are, a pair cannot coexist. Then hell breaks loose. I always suggest buying cheaper socks. But, no. Socks have to be branded so when they are lost, you can look at the woman in the house and say punch dialogues like ‘It was a Hush Puppies sock!’ and loud sighs for dramatic effect.And women are considered to be drama queens.


Guys don’t care about any festival, birthday or anniversary. Everything has to be manly for them. How about a Christmas tree with a moustache and a beard? Will someone give me a hand then? If they are wearing a branded shirt, they will not dispose the trash. They will not temporarily put your phone in their pocket because it will make them look fat. They will never have a pair of identical socks. They will never agree with you. They think you are responsible for everything that goes missing. They look at you like you are secretly running a high-security personal website to sell their stupid junk stuff. End of the day, they say that women are complicated.

I can actually see my son’s vocabulary changing with inspiration derived from his Appa.

Past:  ‘Amma where did you put my green crayon’?

Present: ‘Amma where did you MISPLACE my green crayon?’

Future: ‘Where the hell is my green crayon?’

This Christmas, if Santa asks me what I want, I am just going to ask whether I can accompany him. 


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