What was that again?

I have the feeling i didn't quite get today's topic:

• A night under the sun
  That sounds completely impossible
  
  
• A night under: the Son
  Sounds like a vendetta-based trilogy
  
  
• A Knight under: the Son
  Sounds like a Porno re-make of the aforementioned trilogy
  
  
• A.Knight: Under the sun
  Sounds like a biography
  
  
• A Knight under the sun
  Could only be about sweating like crazy in an armor
  
  
• A night under the Son
  Sounds like every 16-year old village girl's dream come true
  
  
• A Knight under the Son
  Now that is just plain disgusting
  
  
• A.Knight: under the Son
  That would be the coming-out-of-the-closet biography.

The Heroes Project

whatmark is proud to present The Heroes Project.

No Spandex. No secret weapons. Just the power of belief pumping through human veins. This list is in no particular order, and if people keep living good lives, should get bigger as time goes on. Suggestions are most welcome.

DAVE GROHL.
Kurt commits suicide. Krist fades away. Dave wins Record of the Year.

No wallowing in self-pity for Nirvana's drummer.
Dave actually gives so much as the frontman of The Foofighters.
As on date, one of the biggest rockstars on the planet.

DR. BILLY GRAHAM.
For years I have watched him live the most extraordinary life.

His books are mines of insight and perspective. Yet when asked how he would like be remembered, Mr. Graham simply said, "As someone who was fun to be with". If only more Christians understood the truth in that.

LARRY NORMAN.
For many years, this hippie folk-rock singer-songwriter, wasn't afraid to tell it like is. Larry was never afraid to go against popular culture. Despite my fairly extensive exposure to good music, Billy Joel and Larry are still my favorite songwriters.

The world recently lost him to cancer.

BONO.
Not for giving us U2. But for all that he's doing to help Africa get rid of its debts. Bono “never leaves the room without a check”, and we're talking billions!

Seriously, The Edge, Larry and Adam share the same stage, but only Bono shares the burden.

JOHN SCHLITT.

I was never big on Petra. But seeing John Schiltt on stage made me want to be just like him. At the time of the concert he was 55 – a screeching rock-n-roll grandfather! With a history of rock steady character too. He's the single reason i shut right up when i feel like saying I'm too old to be in a band.

AMALA AKKINENI.

Amala’s Blue Cross has been on an uphill journey, fighting for animal rights in a city that doesn’t give a damn.

And they’re doing a bloody good job of it. Respect!

weapons of mass distraction

No more parking worries. Here's how.

We're sitting at a pizza place with one car parked on the road.
Sure enough the cops pull up, in their tow truck.

Like a bolt of lightning, the pretty girl jumps to her feet and dashes out.
Jumping over fellow pizza lovers and potted plants with determination, we notice she's got her fingers working furiously on the buttons of her snug-fitting green shirt.

I rise to my feet slowly, thinking "She's Lois Lane! She's Lois Lane! She's gonna emerge in her superwoman uniform and save the day."

sure enough she begins to unbutton her shirt frantically, running at superhuman speeds.

The third button snaps... the fourth ... the fifth. the last one. A primal tug down the middle of the shirt ... and off it goes!

It was like Demi in Striptease. Minus the pole, the music, the chair, and the gravity-defying you-know-whats. But best of all.... minus the dialogues.

And there she was, taking the world chest-on. but there was no bold 'S' she was flashing. Just a svelte 'VS'.

I know you've heard of shooting from the hip, but this was something else. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Five cops are taken down at their weak knees. (including one female, mind you!)

So did it work?

Well, no parking tickets were issued.

The car stayed put.

And the next morning I quietly sent out an application to volunteer for the tow truck duty.


PS: While I'm waiting for the "big" opportunity, Mariah's words have taken on a whole new meaning:

"When you think all hope is gone,
look inside you and be strong,
And then you'll finally see the truth
Superwoman lies in you."

I stink, therefore i am

The smell of sweat is sexy only when it's on Teri Hatcher or John Stamos.

Everybody else in the world needs a deodorant. That includes you.

This is non-negotiable.

No really.

You might argue that no one's ever complained. But that's a sign that you have very nice friends. Not that you don't need one - like right now.

so come on, don't be afraid. First times are always a little scary. But I'll hold your hand through this.

Step 1: Gently, easy your palm around the can. (See how and harmless it feels?)

Step2: Graciously lift arm.
Little more... little more nice and high ... there you go....

(MOTHER OF PEARL!!! I JUST SPOTTED THE YETI!)

Step 3: Spray until you feel the icicles form in your armpit. This again is non-negotiable


Step 4: Relax, lower hand and watch your friends heave a collective sigh of relief


I salute you. It's brave people like you who make this country what it is.

please, take a bow.

To Mac or not to Mac

I’ve been considering getting a laptop. So I thought I should get myself familiar with the local Macs. The one I’m referring to is definitely a “He”. (After all, the thought of pushing a “she’s” buttons just to get a little work done seems a little cheap on my part).

So here’s what I found out (you’re welcome to send in additions):

• Elle Mac-pherson: Woman he wants to sleep with ASAP.
  
  
• Mac-Donald’s: Favorite junk food
  
  
• GodsMac: Favorite rock act
  
  
• To kill a Macking bird: Last book he read
  
  
• Mac hoon na: Favorite Bollywood flick
  
  
• Mackenna’s Gold: Favorite Hollywood flick
  
  
• Old Mac Donald: Ring tone if he had a phone
  
  
• WhatMac: Blog name (if he ever gets around to it)
  
  
• Toby Macguire: Who he’d sleep with if he were (or turns) gay
  
  
• Machael learns to rock: Fave Pop act
  
  
• Machael Jackson: Guy he claims touched him up in several places when he was younger.
  
  
• For heaven’s sake, Mac up your mind: Auto-generated mail he sends out everyday to Hot Pink laptop
  
  
• I’ll be Mac: Hollywood catch phrase (which he claims to have invented!)
  
  
• Six Mac: Gym-ming goal
  
  
• Arre Mac-kaddey: What he says to every possible auto driver
  
  
• Mac-ki-kirkirri: Reaction of a virus attack
  
  
• Oh-Mac-God!: Favorite line from Friends
  
  
• Sexy Mac: Reason he’s a Timberlake fan
  
  
• I’ll Mac you scream, yeah baby: Pick up line that never worked for him.
  (for further proof, contact Hot pink laptop)
  
  
• You look even more beautiful without Mac-up: Standard morning-after line.
  
  
• Mac the most of what you’ve got: Motto in life

So. Think i should buy?

oh leave me Al-one!

"Floyd??"

"What's the Macarena?"

"Carbon Foot-what?"

"Michael who?"

"Who's Liv Tyler's father again?"

"Monica Geller is Ross Geller's wife, right?"

"There were 4 guys in the Beatles?!?"

"Why did Nirvana break up?"

"What do you mean she Bobbitted him?"

i might as well be guilty of any of those, because right here, right now i must confess,


"I know Jack about Al".

Sunscreen

Election results are being announced. The IPL is winding its way to a showdown. Obama and Hillary are so close at each other's throats they might as well start necking. The number of Tigers has dwindled again. Another (big) fuel hike looms large.

And what did we pick to write talk about?

Sunscreen.

"Really? Suncreen?"
(In Rachel Greene's tone)

I'd like to write it off as another "ladies product", but the imagery in my mind is not that of a Brazilian girl, but that of a XL-sized cricketer - charging down menacingly, predator-like locks jangling - almost threatening to mangle any random sardar.

And come to think of it, one of the largest buyers of sunscreen and its sister (brother?) products are South Indian men. can you hear them "Yenna Rascal-a, pass me the sunscreen-a"

So does that settle the debate as to whether it's a girlie thing?

I'm not fully convinced.

We'll talk about it later. I'm late for my pedicure.

K for Kshitty

FACT: This post is going make me very unpopular with the average Indian woman.


Ok, so we're discussing the Indian soap. For anyone who is male or has been blessed to be too busy to tune in, here is what you missed (over the 9 years).

Open on the daughter-in-law.
she announces she is pregnant. the father is the son of the family's arch business rivals.

The grandmother reacts. Hand on chest. She will do this every 6th episode. But she will never actually die.

Sitting in an airport in Singapore, the father reacts. His expression is stoic and will remain so until the child grows up. Because deep inside he knows that the guy who got her pregnant is his bastard son - from a long-standing affair he's been having.

The brothers all react with similar, not same, expressions of shock and horror. Being Mamma's boys they walk away from the million dollar deal they are signing and take the next flight home to be by their mother's side.

The Mother. Over the next 35 episodes she will be too busy consoling the uncles, aunts, sons, daughters-in-law, and the servant to even talk to the daughter and let her know things will be alright (once she agrees to abort ofcourse).

The Servant. If you do the math, the servant has actually been in the family for almost 300 years. he will be the one with real perspective of the situation, and will prevent the pregnant girl from committing suicide by tying herself to a Khaitan fan, with her Manish Malhotra. Dupatta.

The foetus. It will be a "He". For "He" will grow up to wreck revenge on the un-accepting family and will then have a change of heart after meeting the Mother, and discovering the mother's husband is his grandfather. "he" will also be deceptively charming, will be able to dance and his character will win awards for best villain, best anti-hero (yes there is a difference), best hero, best brother, best illegitimate child, best nephew, and best still-to-be-accepted-son-by-a-now-120-year-old-father.



Now that you know, you can get on with your life.

PS: Readers are requested not to send in anymore "THANK YOU" mails.

My experiments with bird poop

2 am.

I was returning home my (un)faithful kinetic honda (ugh!).

It was the time before MTV got bastardized by Bollywood. This was also back SD Road straddled a line of full grown trees - occupied by noisy black crows.

so there i was riding down at top speed - singing - when the sinister plan was 'dumped' on me.

Now it is critical that you understand that i was singing along to Aerosmith's 'Cryin'. Which, for the completely lost, means my mouth was wide open.

Then it happened.

i felt a distinct splat. a bitter taste assaulted my tongue. moments later, i felt my mouth go numb. And it was all over.

the singing stopped. and i swear i heard the crows laugh as they exchanged high fives with their dirty black wings.

Their mission was accomplished.

a decade on, i still sing. but i now restrict myself to Nirvana. Which, for the completely lost, means my jaw is tightly clenched.

And i prefer to do it under the shelter of a Sierra's dependable roof.

But looking on the bright side , i can now look you in the eye and confidently say,

"i know bird poop better than you."

you want to question that?

My password

I'll keep it simple.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

Urgent: Photoshopper wanted

Put the HIM on the HIMalayas.

Having been granted an unearned, 2-week leave, a friend of mine desperately needs to feign a trip to the Himalayas.

To this end, we are now desperately looking for an expert in photoshop. the job involves clipping images of a guy and his friends, and then compositing them with images of the Ranges.

The ability to also superimpose a bullet in the background is mandatory. (Since the Bullet is the only one in the group with any prior experience.) All images are available with us in high resolution.

You have just under two weeks to complete the assignment, and compensation is not a constraint for the right candidate.

First Night

This is my first post.

On my first blog.

It's taken me 5 years of resistance, and 30 minutes of rewriting to get here.

I now fully understand why they say the first step is the hardest.