The bear family

In a dense tropical forest in southern India lived a bear family – Papa bear, Mama bear and their children Yogi bear and Cherie bear. Papa bear and Yogi bear would go hunting during the day and bring back the bread while Mama and Cherie bear would stay at home and make dinner and the beds. Yogi bear was strong on the outside and soft on the inside and loved by everyone in the jungle. C bear was the black bear of the family – a total rebellion but still good at heart.

One summer afternoon, Yogi bear spotted a vision by the lake. Pooh bear was playing with a butterfly and laughing and humming a tune to herself. He sees her, she sees him. He looks away, she looks away. Now she looks at him, he’s looking at her deep in thought. He sees a glimpse of the days to come, how they would be together forever, how she would fit right into his bear family.

In the meantime, Pooh bear experienced such intense emotions of love at her first sight of him that she nearly passed out. She wondered ‘is this real?’. When their eyes met, time seemed to stand still. When she looked again into his eyes, she could see through it the love in his heart a lot like what she had in hers. She went on staring into his eyes but was actually talking to his heart.

Yogi bear walked up to the lake slowly, nervously. He wanted to say so much to Pooh bear yet he seemed at a loss for words. He wanted to give her a ring, ask her to be his. And he did, as he heard an angelic voice sigh ‘yes’. His heart started to thump and quiver, butterflies flooded his stomach and joy filled his heart. Pooh bear wanted to dance like a child, but she was floating. She couldn't feel her feet. All she could feel was a warm feeling in her heart.

Their big wedding will be in February 2006. Mama and Papa bear are ecstatic. They just can’t wait for Pooh bear to come home. Cherie bear is thrilled beyond words and wishes the couple a lifetime of happiness. May their marriage celebrate the miracle of love.

Face the music

My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps! You got to hand it to The black eyed peas – I bet the lead thinks she’s too smart for a blonde. Let me give credit where it’s due – yes, let’s get retarded was a good one but now they have become a pathetic excuse for a band. I hear it on the shuttle, on my lab-homie’s computer and then my roomie’s radio! Now the little kids in the neighborhood are singing it and they have no clue what it means! Or do they?

I love the ‘80s and ‘90s man! Every song told a story – the lyrics meant something!

So I thought I should compile a list of my favorite songs.

20 Shine on you crazy diamond – Pink Floyd
19 Stairway to heaven – Led Zeppelin
18 One - Creed
17 Wonderwall _ Oasis
16 Fear of the dark – Iron Maiden
15 Poison – Alice Copper
14 Two Steps behind – Def Leppard
13 Even flow – Pearl Jam
12 Smells like teen spirit - Nirvana
11 Eye of the tiger - Survivor
10 Love hurts - Nazareth
9 Goodbye to Romance – Ozzy Osbourne
8 The unforgiven - Metallica
7 Sweet child of mine – Guns N Roses
6 Angel - Aerosmith
5 Coming back to life – Pink Floyd
4 Hysteria – Def Leppard
3 Don’t cry – Guns N Roses
2 Enter Sandman - Metallica
1 See you on the other side – Ozzy Osbourne

What’s your favorite song?

Elimi'date

This happened when I was fifteen (15). This buddy of mine - who we will call “Me2” in this blog - due to a dearth of the third party - arranged a blind date for herself. It was this guy she had been talking up for a real long time via the telephone. She had no clue what he looked like. What was originally planned as a blind date became a gō-kon date – Japanese style because she wanted me to be her chaperon!

So we decide to meet up at 4th block Jayanagar – that’s where the cool crowd hung out I guess. He said he would be driving a green car called ‘Cielo’ by Daewoo. We figured he was this big stud only to realize seven years later (after watching ‘Taxi’) that we don’t want to get ‘Daewoo on our hands’ – quoting Queen Latifah.

Now this car pulls up and this guy who seemed just like a frog (and I don’t mean metaphorically) sprang out of it. Now Me2 is all thwarted in hope, desire, or expectation.

Me2: That guy’s fugly man!
Cherie: What does fugly mean?
Me2: It means he’s F***ing ugly!
Cherie: he he

Now our fugly blind date approaches us and is looking straight into Me2’s eyes

Fugly blind date: Me2?
Me2: No, not me – that’s Me2 (finger pointed towards moi!)
Cherie: What! No No! That’s Me2! (pointing back at Me2)
FBD: I know you are Me2 – I can tell that voice from a mile (Looking at Me2)

Now Me2 starts sprinting like Marion Jones and FBD looks at me and says ‘So do you want to get a drink or something?’ I catch up with Me2 and say ‘Run girl, run like you have never ran before!’

Smokers = Losers

So I am tired of sitting on my ergonomics-deprived chair and decide to take a little walk outside – you know – get a breath of fresh air and catch some rays. And what do I get - some sidestream smoke – some asthmatic trigger! So what’s the story? I fail to understand why someone would smoke knowing very well that it is detrimental to their health. I have some very brilliant and normal friends who smoke in a chain. They like to take care of their bodies, exercise, control their diet . . . and smoke? What kind of a life is it when you have no sense of mastery, autonomy or competency over it and let self-destructive, addictive, obsessive-compulsive and deplorable habits orchestrate it? Isn’t this just another chemical dependency where you lose the locus of control? How different is it from being a junkie? I’m sure you don’t agree with all I have said in this post – that’s why they have a comments section :)
BTW, I am a quasi-active member of the UMBC anti-smoking lobby which is trying to keep smokers from congregating closer to building entrances than 20 feet. Here’s a link to their website.

Laterz

Welcome to votre chérie's blog

Welcome to my blog ya’ll!
So this is my first post . . . . And I already seem to have run out of anything to write about! Talk about writer’s block! The words just won’t come together! Makes me wonder why this is happening. Why the sudden onset of the thinker’s cramp coupled with hypergraphia? Ironical? I wonder if it is because some part of my mind (on a subconscious level) feels writing something down is exposing a part of myself in an unusually public way and fears the revelation of it being unprofound, unfunny, uninsightful, and uninteresting. It is weird how my mind can be a complete blank at one time and the next moment has a zillion thoughts passing by at supersonic speeds. It is overwhelming.
Well . . . hopefully . . . I will have something to write about in my next post.