Iz... stop smoking up!
Ok guys... she's 'tagged' me. And i've got to divulge 5 things about myself that people don't know.
So here goes.
1) I used to like the macarena, some songs from Aqua (yeah the barbie girl people) and even one song from Jessica Simpson called public affair. I hope I don't go to cool people's jail for this.
2) I HAVE to sleep on the right side of the bed. Or on the side that's not against the wall. Toss and turn for 15 minutes trying to find my position and end up on my side.
3) I'm a wimp when it comes to extreme sports/ events. Can't do bungee jumping. Roller coasters. And yeah, the most terryfing of em all. The Giant Wheel. I just can't take it. I like my legs on the ground. Not forming a bow around my neck.
4) To all my Indian friends - this is a biggie. I haven't watched Sholay.
5) This is a slightly embarassing one. Even though i'm from Goa - I can;t hold my liqour. 3 drinks Max. Then the loud off key singing. Then the 'not related to the conversation' insults. And then my hands start cramping.
The few people that actually read my blog are already tagged. Orange Jammies, Karen, Prashant, Prado, if you actually come back here, you're it.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Are you an ISH-ER?
So I’ve quit my job.
And that leaves me with a lot of time to think.
Here’s proof that that’s not such a good thing.
Are You an ‘ish-er?’
I’ve discovered this of late whilst talking to a friend of mine. She said “I’ll meet you at Seven thirty-ish.
Ka-ching Ka-ching. Goldmine on the loose. And I found it!
Seven thirty-ish. What does that mean?
7:31?
7:29?
7:50?
It’s open to interpretation. And here’s the good part. We can customize ISH to fit (read as ‘get out of’) any situation.
I’ll show you how.
o Of course I love you-ish.
o Yes, I remembered to plug in the life support system-ish.
o I didn’t sleep with the white house intern-ish
o Yeah I know how to play the electric guitar, blindfolded, one hand tied behind my back and whipping up Duck a l’orange with the other, whilst calculating the value of pi up to 72 decimal points. Ish.
o Pull my finger. I promise I won’t fart - ish.
o I love your cooking! Just like my mom’s. – ish
o No I don’t think you’re psychotic-ish.
o Yes Jonathan – I love your blog. –ish.
Accomplished ishers usually disguise the ish within a cough. It’s takes a bit o practice. But you’ll get the hang of it. Let me know if you have anymore situations. Or if you’ve used ish successfully recently.
Now it’s time for me to take my pre lunch post early morning nap - nap. Ciao.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Cinemagic
It’s like all the scriptwriters refer to the same book. Look up some formulae, put some of them together and voila. A movie.
Uno Problemo.
Too many scriptwriters, too few formulae.
Hence ladies and gentlemen, the origin of clichés.
I’ve documented some of these & titled them for your reading pleasure.
1) Dead Funny Guy
The comic relief in the horror/thriller movie has to die. Being a pseudo funny guy myself, I find this unfair. I hear ‘we’ don’t even get paid much. ‘You’ guys totally take us for granted and I’m calling for a strike of all funny people. Ok, back to the titles.
2) Dead Daddy Cop
Any cop, especially a retired one pulling out a photograph from his wallet that oh so lovingly portrays his wife and kids will be dead in the next 15 minutes. His partner of course will then get some nookie and later on avenge his death. Oh yeah, throw in an incompatible new partner for good measure.
3) Friggin Peekaboo Kitty
This one really bugs me. Horror / Thriller movies. Against all logic and reason, the soon-to-be-dead-person decides to SLOWLY look under the bed or in the closet.
Looking slowly… slowly… slooowlyy. Kapow! Kitty appears, brandishing her claws and meowing a lot.
Damn you kitty. Shouldn’t you be out getting some with the neighbour’s cat? Get a life. Or 9 of them.
4) I know how you died last summer
When the antagonist goes down, it has to be big. And you’ll know how it happens before it actually does.
If there’s a sharp object in the vicinity, he will get impaled on it.
If they’re on a building, he will fall off it
Budget permitting he will fall through a glass house, into a swimming pool.
Stricter budgets dictate that he will fall on a parked car.
If he’s a specialist at something, he will die at his own game. Evil bomb specialists will be bombed to glory. And killers with hockey masks will be beaten really badly at hockey and hence die of shame.
5) Blabbermouth Baddie
And oldie but goodie.
Tie up the good guy… but don’t kill him. That ain’t fun.
And besides, only 5 minutes of the movie are up.
So you tie him, devise a series of linked operations that will kill him eventually. But before that – reveal your evil plot.
Eg: Baddie ties goodie to a chair. Next to him a candle slowly burns a rope. When the rope burns, it releases an anvil that falls down on a small catapult that launches a knife into the air and cuts off the phone wire. Good guy’s mom walks in a week later and kills him herself for not calling her to find out how she is.
But BEFORE all that baddie says “ So Bruce, you thought you could catch me. Well, much before you die, I’m gonna kidnap the funny guy in this movie and kill him. Because hey, I hate funny guys. He’s gonna be home right now updating his blog, and I’ll sneak in through the window at 11:23 pm and poison his stash of Goan sausages in the fridge.”
Man, I love goan sausages. Mmmmmmm.
6) I’m so hot and there’s no one around to see it.
Hotties wearing skimpy outfits will travel in trains that will be devoid of an other passengers. Incredible as it is, just that one hottie is traveling. If it’s in a city, she will choose to walk down a deserted alley.
Better still, she will choose the shortcut through the park at 3 in the morning.
Why I ask you. You’ve gone through the trouble of swearing practically nothing. Move around places where there are tons of guys! Specifically - soon to be dead funny guys.
Have anymore, write in.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff.
Uno Problemo.
Too many scriptwriters, too few formulae.
Hence ladies and gentlemen, the origin of clichés.
I’ve documented some of these & titled them for your reading pleasure.
1) Dead Funny Guy
The comic relief in the horror/thriller movie has to die. Being a pseudo funny guy myself, I find this unfair. I hear ‘we’ don’t even get paid much. ‘You’ guys totally take us for granted and I’m calling for a strike of all funny people. Ok, back to the titles.
2) Dead Daddy Cop
Any cop, especially a retired one pulling out a photograph from his wallet that oh so lovingly portrays his wife and kids will be dead in the next 15 minutes. His partner of course will then get some nookie and later on avenge his death. Oh yeah, throw in an incompatible new partner for good measure.
3) Friggin Peekaboo Kitty
This one really bugs me. Horror / Thriller movies. Against all logic and reason, the soon-to-be-dead-person decides to SLOWLY look under the bed or in the closet.
Looking slowly… slowly… slooowlyy. Kapow! Kitty appears, brandishing her claws and meowing a lot.
Damn you kitty. Shouldn’t you be out getting some with the neighbour’s cat? Get a life. Or 9 of them.
4) I know how you died last summer
When the antagonist goes down, it has to be big. And you’ll know how it happens before it actually does.
If there’s a sharp object in the vicinity, he will get impaled on it.
If they’re on a building, he will fall off it
Budget permitting he will fall through a glass house, into a swimming pool.
Stricter budgets dictate that he will fall on a parked car.
If he’s a specialist at something, he will die at his own game. Evil bomb specialists will be bombed to glory. And killers with hockey masks will be beaten really badly at hockey and hence die of shame.
5) Blabbermouth Baddie
And oldie but goodie.
Tie up the good guy… but don’t kill him. That ain’t fun.
And besides, only 5 minutes of the movie are up.
So you tie him, devise a series of linked operations that will kill him eventually. But before that – reveal your evil plot.
Eg: Baddie ties goodie to a chair. Next to him a candle slowly burns a rope. When the rope burns, it releases an anvil that falls down on a small catapult that launches a knife into the air and cuts off the phone wire. Good guy’s mom walks in a week later and kills him herself for not calling her to find out how she is.
But BEFORE all that baddie says “ So Bruce, you thought you could catch me. Well, much before you die, I’m gonna kidnap the funny guy in this movie and kill him. Because hey, I hate funny guys. He’s gonna be home right now updating his blog, and I’ll sneak in through the window at 11:23 pm and poison his stash of Goan sausages in the fridge.”
Man, I love goan sausages. Mmmmmmm.
6) I’m so hot and there’s no one around to see it.
Hotties wearing skimpy outfits will travel in trains that will be devoid of an other passengers. Incredible as it is, just that one hottie is traveling. If it’s in a city, she will choose to walk down a deserted alley.
Better still, she will choose the shortcut through the park at 3 in the morning.
Why I ask you. You’ve gone through the trouble of swearing practically nothing. Move around places where there are tons of guys! Specifically - soon to be dead funny guys.
Have anymore, write in.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Sing Song Sucks
Hello People,
It's been some time since I've tortured you with my seemingly endless source of crap.
Been busy quitting my job. Yes, it’s a process.
Anyway, here we go again. Have any of you guys actually heard the words of the songs that you listen to?
Well, yesterday as I sat doing my nails, perming my hair and laying out my underwear for the week… I heard this song by someone who goes by the name of Ricky Martin.
And he was singing a song called Shake your Bon Bons.
Question.
What are Bon Bons? Does everybody have a bon bon. Is that a good thing? Is it a gender oriented thingy? I'm pretty sure I don't have a bon bon.
If I did.. I wouldn't call it a bon bon anyway. It's too panzy-ish.
How about that Michael Bolten chappy -"Can I touch you there."
Where Mikey? Please tell us... . If you're referring to my bons bons - the answer is NO WAY HOSEY!Besides... i'm too busy shaking them to kingdom come. Oh Oh.. .and can someone please tell me what the lil boy is saying when he sings.. "You say it best when you say nothing at all."
Isn't that an insult? Isn't he saying… I love it when you shut up coz the birds come out to sing and the sun shines brighter?
Perhaps they’re all metaphors.
Like 2 steps behind - written by the stalker.
Annies Song – written by the alcoholic
Janie’s got a gun – by the jealous transvestite
Anyone got anymore? Oh.. and please do write in if you figure out what bon bons are.
Ciao.
It's been some time since I've tortured you with my seemingly endless source of crap.
Been busy quitting my job. Yes, it’s a process.
Anyway, here we go again. Have any of you guys actually heard the words of the songs that you listen to?
Well, yesterday as I sat doing my nails, perming my hair and laying out my underwear for the week… I heard this song by someone who goes by the name of Ricky Martin.
And he was singing a song called Shake your Bon Bons.
Question.
What are Bon Bons? Does everybody have a bon bon. Is that a good thing? Is it a gender oriented thingy? I'm pretty sure I don't have a bon bon.
If I did.. I wouldn't call it a bon bon anyway. It's too panzy-ish.
How about that Michael Bolten chappy -"Can I touch you there."
Where Mikey? Please tell us... . If you're referring to my bons bons - the answer is NO WAY HOSEY!Besides... i'm too busy shaking them to kingdom come. Oh Oh.. .and can someone please tell me what the lil boy is saying when he sings.. "You say it best when you say nothing at all."
Isn't that an insult? Isn't he saying… I love it when you shut up coz the birds come out to sing and the sun shines brighter?
Perhaps they’re all metaphors.
Like 2 steps behind - written by the stalker.
Annies Song – written by the alcoholic
Janie’s got a gun – by the jealous transvestite
Anyone got anymore? Oh.. and please do write in if you figure out what bon bons are.
Ciao.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Modern-ish Art
Who can weave a story around this one? Extra points for guessing what the woman (yes that's a woman) is wearing.
Passing Thought
I think cancerians have the short end of the stick.
Why do we have to be named after a fatal disease?
I take that back - VIRGO's. Now they have a fatal disease.
Why do we have to be named after a fatal disease?
I take that back - VIRGO's. Now they have a fatal disease.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Nusery Rhymes - Part 1 and 1.5
I was drinking the other day (yeah yeah.. so whats new) and thinking about nursery rhymes. Yeah. Revving up the grey cells.
Serendipity! It struck me like a goose flying north inthe winter. They've taught us to be stupid from day one!
Get this....." Twinkle twinkle little star... how I wonder what you are!" You just said it! STAR!!!! What the f*** do you mean " how i wonder what you are?" Shmuck!
How about.. "Baa Baa black sheep have you any wool? What else you f***ing moron? You think sheep start growing nylon after 40 and a couple of more years it gets to silk? And you've got to double check by asking the damn sheep? Like he's gonna tell you the truth!
Sheep: "No Jon.... it 50% wool and 50 percent man made fibres... do not wash in hot water or give to the dhobi" Hah! Double hah!
I got one more. A phrase. "A stitch in time saves nine"
Nine what?
People?
Are you trying to tell me that instead ofsending in the troops to iraq Bush should have sent in a couple of hundrerd seamstresses????? What the bejeezes is the world coming too. And i've only just begun scraping the surface! Your comments are welcome!
The Seer,
Jonathan
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Conspiracy! ... it's all coming to me.. in a flurry! Like lots of horny roosters chasing a harrowed hen. So yesterday.. i started a little early celebrating of the ending of the week ( wednesday's not all tha far from a saturday) and after a couple of beers at 6:30 in the evening (the sun was still up!) i jotted down a coouple of more things.
So if you ain't fed-up of Jonathan's ruminations. here are summore.
I've got more of them society's screwing up our mind thingies. ... For example : Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.
What the hell WAS JILL thinking? She saw the dude falling down and cracking his nut. Probably suffering from multiple fractures. Brain hemorrhaging... and she’s going.. Hey that must be fun.. let me try it! Halloo? I’m sure they didn’t go up there to fetch no pail of water. They were probably went up there to light a joint, when jack said.." you know Jill babe.. I can fly"
And she say.. " uhhh...No way dude"
And he says.. "yeah babe...I show you" .Oops.
And then Jill didn’t want to be left out. So she spreads her hands out ,, says.. look at my big bird impression and down she goes too!
How’s about Rock a bye baby on the tree top….. when the bough breaks the cradle will fall.. down will come baby cradle and all.
Take into consideration… this is a child who’s suffering from a sleep disorder we’re talking about. So what we’re telling him is - We’re Gonna put you high up on a branch, …if you suffer from Vertigo.. I care a rats ass. Then I’m gonna take a chain saw and hack off the branch but blame it on the breeze. And you’re gonna come falling down till *splat*. Okie Dokie.. Gnite sweety!
Oh by the way.. i'm working on my own nusery rhymes that are not only intelligent but realistic... coming soon.
Serendipity! It struck me like a goose flying north inthe winter. They've taught us to be stupid from day one!
Get this....." Twinkle twinkle little star... how I wonder what you are!" You just said it! STAR!!!! What the f*** do you mean " how i wonder what you are?" Shmuck!
How about.. "Baa Baa black sheep have you any wool? What else you f***ing moron? You think sheep start growing nylon after 40 and a couple of more years it gets to silk? And you've got to double check by asking the damn sheep? Like he's gonna tell you the truth!
Sheep: "No Jon.... it 50% wool and 50 percent man made fibres... do not wash in hot water or give to the dhobi" Hah! Double hah!
I got one more. A phrase. "A stitch in time saves nine"
Nine what?
People?
Are you trying to tell me that instead ofsending in the troops to iraq Bush should have sent in a couple of hundrerd seamstresses????? What the bejeezes is the world coming too. And i've only just begun scraping the surface! Your comments are welcome!
The Seer,
Jonathan
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Conspiracy! ... it's all coming to me.. in a flurry! Like lots of horny roosters chasing a harrowed hen. So yesterday.. i started a little early celebrating of the ending of the week ( wednesday's not all tha far from a saturday) and after a couple of beers at 6:30 in the evening (the sun was still up!) i jotted down a coouple of more things.
So if you ain't fed-up of Jonathan's ruminations. here are summore.
I've got more of them society's screwing up our mind thingies. ... For example : Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after.
What the hell WAS JILL thinking? She saw the dude falling down and cracking his nut. Probably suffering from multiple fractures. Brain hemorrhaging... and she’s going.. Hey that must be fun.. let me try it! Halloo? I’m sure they didn’t go up there to fetch no pail of water. They were probably went up there to light a joint, when jack said.." you know Jill babe.. I can fly"
And she say.. " uhhh...No way dude"
And he says.. "yeah babe...I show you" .Oops.
And then Jill didn’t want to be left out. So she spreads her hands out ,, says.. look at my big bird impression and down she goes too!
How’s about Rock a bye baby on the tree top….. when the bough breaks the cradle will fall.. down will come baby cradle and all.
Take into consideration… this is a child who’s suffering from a sleep disorder we’re talking about. So what we’re telling him is - We’re Gonna put you high up on a branch, …if you suffer from Vertigo.. I care a rats ass. Then I’m gonna take a chain saw and hack off the branch but blame it on the breeze. And you’re gonna come falling down till *splat*. Okie Dokie.. Gnite sweety!
Oh by the way.. i'm working on my own nusery rhymes that are not only intelligent but realistic... coming soon.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Part 2 - Explanation to nusery rhymes
Dear People,
I have a friend whom I shall not name (Nicola Bush, Fairmont, Dubai), who sort of has an explanation for nursery rhymes. She says… perhaps they aren’t all that idiotic after all. Perhaps they are symbolic for something much deeper. Get the drift?
So letzee….Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool, yes Sir yes sir 3 bags full, one for my master, one for my dame.. and one for the little boy who lives down the lane. So… Assuming Sheep is code for drug dealer. And the kindergarten kids singing the rhyme are shitting bricks coz the Drug Enforcement Agency is on their case.. so they have to sing in code. And these kids are asking the drug dealing sheep how much of maal he has. And he claims he has three bags. But his wife needs to smoke a joint.. and so does his dad and he’s thinking of rolling one for his granny (a.k.a little boy down the lane).Hmm.. kindda fits in, but I’m still a bit skeptical coz I have a friend who’se granny says she and her friends hate pot and they just stick to extasy. And why would a sheep need to peddle drugs to support his own habit when he gets all the free grass in the world. Debatable
I have a friend whom I shall not name (Nicola Bush, Fairmont, Dubai), who sort of has an explanation for nursery rhymes. She says… perhaps they aren’t all that idiotic after all. Perhaps they are symbolic for something much deeper. Get the drift?
So letzee….Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool, yes Sir yes sir 3 bags full, one for my master, one for my dame.. and one for the little boy who lives down the lane. So… Assuming Sheep is code for drug dealer. And the kindergarten kids singing the rhyme are shitting bricks coz the Drug Enforcement Agency is on their case.. so they have to sing in code. And these kids are asking the drug dealing sheep how much of maal he has. And he claims he has three bags. But his wife needs to smoke a joint.. and so does his dad and he’s thinking of rolling one for his granny (a.k.a little boy down the lane).Hmm.. kindda fits in, but I’m still a bit skeptical coz I have a friend who’se granny says she and her friends hate pot and they just stick to extasy. And why would a sheep need to peddle drugs to support his own habit when he gets all the free grass in the world. Debatable
Monday, October 30, 2006
Human Vacuum
Today we’re going to talk about being FAT.
Fat is but a state of mind. Just like poverty and good looks.
And at the end of every month I find my brain constantly telling me – Jon… you poor, poor ugly bastard.
Now, as I look down and see my navel, where my feet used to be, the truth seems to hit me hard and bounce of my paunch like a crazy ball on steroids. (I was never good with similes and metaphors)
I used to keep telling my friends. “Of course I have a six pack. They’re just piled on top of one another.”
Others suggest that there are much more than 6 hiding in there. Funny.
Assuming that my “friends” have some basis in calling me lumpy, let’s get down to identifying the causes and stemming them.
1) Vegetables: Veggies make you fat. This is a personal experiment that I’ve conducted and has no scientific backing. From past experience, the scientific community tends to distance itself from me. Go figure.
So I’ve tried this. French Fries. Capsicum stuffed with mince. Extra lettuce and tomatoes on my burgers. A few more peas in the fried rice. Even gone to the extent of enquiring about the price of karelas (bitter gourd).
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. No weight loss. Just another notch on the evil messenger (the weighing scale for you think schmucks who don’t get it). Vegetables are our enemy.
2) Exercise: I’ve tried everything. Spot jogging in the lift. Crunches on the escalator. Toe flexes while I’m sleeping at work. Nothing there either. And if it weren’t for my hip flask, I’d have died of dehydration. Or Sobriety. Either ways, exercise is a no-no.
3) I don’t really really have a 3rd point. But I would like to take this opportunity to state that DIET is an anagram for I E(a)T. (for those of you slower than I am, I have slyly removed the ‘D’ and added an ‘a’. Clever eh?)
I’m a fatty. And that’s the not so bare truth. Well, at least I’m…. ….. damn.. just realized there’s no positive side to this.
As usual, feel free to criticize, curse me, or generally talk about the weather.
Fat is but a state of mind. Just like poverty and good looks.
And at the end of every month I find my brain constantly telling me – Jon… you poor, poor ugly bastard.
Now, as I look down and see my navel, where my feet used to be, the truth seems to hit me hard and bounce of my paunch like a crazy ball on steroids. (I was never good with similes and metaphors)
I used to keep telling my friends. “Of course I have a six pack. They’re just piled on top of one another.”
Others suggest that there are much more than 6 hiding in there. Funny.
Assuming that my “friends” have some basis in calling me lumpy, let’s get down to identifying the causes and stemming them.
1) Vegetables: Veggies make you fat. This is a personal experiment that I’ve conducted and has no scientific backing. From past experience, the scientific community tends to distance itself from me. Go figure.
So I’ve tried this. French Fries. Capsicum stuffed with mince. Extra lettuce and tomatoes on my burgers. A few more peas in the fried rice. Even gone to the extent of enquiring about the price of karelas (bitter gourd).
Nothing. Nada. Zilch. No weight loss. Just another notch on the evil messenger (the weighing scale for you think schmucks who don’t get it). Vegetables are our enemy.
2) Exercise: I’ve tried everything. Spot jogging in the lift. Crunches on the escalator. Toe flexes while I’m sleeping at work. Nothing there either. And if it weren’t for my hip flask, I’d have died of dehydration. Or Sobriety. Either ways, exercise is a no-no.
3) I don’t really really have a 3rd point. But I would like to take this opportunity to state that DIET is an anagram for I E(a)T. (for those of you slower than I am, I have slyly removed the ‘D’ and added an ‘a’. Clever eh?)
I’m a fatty. And that’s the not so bare truth. Well, at least I’m…. ….. damn.. just realized there’s no positive side to this.
As usual, feel free to criticize, curse me, or generally talk about the weather.
voyeur
If you're wondering what's in the sheep's hand, it's a pair of binoculars. I think i'm improving, whaddya say?
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Wild on Goa
Please note that the airplane has hit the bird this time. I've tried to get a little neo-modernsitic, quasi-impressionistic and pseudo arty by adding that flower. Your criticism is welcome.
The Unmentionables
This blog contains explicit language and discusses sexuality in depth so if you're below 18, close your eyes.. and have someone else read it out for you.
So I was travelling to work today and this Chakh (Eunuch) "strokes" me and asks me for money. If you've been to bombay, you've been through the drill. What I don't understand is... What the hell is their claim? What are they saying? Give us money because we're women? That's not a claim! It's not valid!
And what gives them the right to touch me? Because they're women? (not that women are standing in line to touch me. Or even look at me). Well I've got news for you... If you look down buddy, you'll find woody wood pecker! And woody says your not a woman!
And that brings to mind another connundrum (damn I love the thesaurus).
I understand the technicalities involved when a man wants to become a woman. I mean.. all they have to do is choppy choppy down there and if they want breasts.. there are always implants. Here's the curve ball.... What happens when a woman wants to become a man???? Ehhh... gotcha there didn't I?
Where do they get equipment from...( or as I like to call them.. Bert, Ernie and Big Bird). I passed this question around the office and got loads of unacceptable answers ranging from thumbs, carrots and secret underground BIG BIRD banks.
So if anyone out there got a clue, please enlighten the rest of us, because we got no work and are waiting patiently at our comps (when not surfing for porn).
Till then,
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,
So I was travelling to work today and this Chakh (Eunuch) "strokes" me and asks me for money. If you've been to bombay, you've been through the drill. What I don't understand is... What the hell is their claim? What are they saying? Give us money because we're women? That's not a claim! It's not valid!
And what gives them the right to touch me? Because they're women? (not that women are standing in line to touch me. Or even look at me). Well I've got news for you... If you look down buddy, you'll find woody wood pecker! And woody says your not a woman!
And that brings to mind another connundrum (damn I love the thesaurus).
I understand the technicalities involved when a man wants to become a woman. I mean.. all they have to do is choppy choppy down there and if they want breasts.. there are always implants. Here's the curve ball.... What happens when a woman wants to become a man???? Ehhh... gotcha there didn't I?
Where do they get equipment from...( or as I like to call them.. Bert, Ernie and Big Bird). I passed this question around the office and got loads of unacceptable answers ranging from thumbs, carrots and secret underground BIG BIRD banks.
So if anyone out there got a clue, please enlighten the rest of us, because we got no work and are waiting patiently at our comps (when not surfing for porn).
Till then,
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,
Monday, October 16, 2006
Legal Bullcrap
Ola people!
Today I’m going legal.Questions from legal fields to which I really don’t have any answers to. Not that I have the answers to any of the questions ever being posed to me. I don’t know if any of you guy really know this, but sometimes I fake it. No kidding.
Oh.. and by the way… I’m treating everyone who decides to reply to this blog. Beer. And I’m not talking about the stuff I distill in my room. I’m talking about real beer… that doesn’t make you see polka dots on your unmentionables after a couple of sips.
Anywoosies…lets start.
Legal contracts.Why the hell do lawyers have to make things so complicated.
So I was reading this contract the other day. They don’t mention anything by their real names so as to make things simpler. Or so they say. So there’s Party A.. and There’s Party B. And so on and so forth.
Now take this into account. Hypothetically speaking, imagine all these dudes were really talking about a party. And Michael is allowed to go to Rakesh’s party and have Alcohol. The contract would say something like this.Michael - henceforth... known as “Party A”, is permitted to enter the legal premises of the aforesaid party, from now on known as “Party” conducted for non commercial purposes by Rakesh from now on known as “Party B” and is legally permitted , at the PARTY to consume alcohol from now on known as “Spirit A” , not to be confused with spirits of the supernatural kind. Ceterus Paribus.
Oh yeah.. you have to end everything with a Latin phrase. And you can even make up shit.
Swallowed everything so far? Now… hypothetically speaking (as always), there are hundreds of people involved. But there are only 26 letters in the alphabet. So, to describe someone you’re gonna have to have a combination of alphabets right? Do you get to choose really cool names then? Get a load of this.
So Jayee, Reagan and Beverly can come to the party as well.“Jayee, Reagan and Beverly from now known as Smarty Party, Party Farty and Party Shmuck are hereby, herewith and alongwith permitted for all social purposes to join Party A for the Party if, and if at all, invited by Party B for the Party wherein there shall be Spirit A, considering that Party B is not having Spirit B and Spirit C which really goes better with coke. Holy Shitus Magnificus.
Incase you’re having trouble with Latin.. I’ve provided a small non-patented list which you can use incase you ever draw up a contract. Feel free to use them.
Ratus Bittis my-asses
Upp-em yors-es.
Underwear Tightis
Bunnies humpalotis
If you got anymore legal crap you wanna add on… feel free.Next time we’re gonna talk about why Judges wear those weird wigs,what exactly does the steno do and why do lawyers have to wear teddy’s? Isn’t there any other lingerie they get to choose?NB: All names in the newsletter are fictitious and any similarity between real life people is purely coincidental.
PS: Dont' give me flak for writing 'anywoosies'. I'm under a lot of stress.
Today I’m going legal.Questions from legal fields to which I really don’t have any answers to. Not that I have the answers to any of the questions ever being posed to me. I don’t know if any of you guy really know this, but sometimes I fake it. No kidding.
Oh.. and by the way… I’m treating everyone who decides to reply to this blog. Beer. And I’m not talking about the stuff I distill in my room. I’m talking about real beer… that doesn’t make you see polka dots on your unmentionables after a couple of sips.
Anywoosies…lets start.
Legal contracts.Why the hell do lawyers have to make things so complicated.
So I was reading this contract the other day. They don’t mention anything by their real names so as to make things simpler. Or so they say. So there’s Party A.. and There’s Party B. And so on and so forth.
Now take this into account. Hypothetically speaking, imagine all these dudes were really talking about a party. And Michael is allowed to go to Rakesh’s party and have Alcohol. The contract would say something like this.Michael - henceforth... known as “Party A”, is permitted to enter the legal premises of the aforesaid party, from now on known as “Party” conducted for non commercial purposes by Rakesh from now on known as “Party B” and is legally permitted , at the PARTY to consume alcohol from now on known as “Spirit A” , not to be confused with spirits of the supernatural kind. Ceterus Paribus.
Oh yeah.. you have to end everything with a Latin phrase. And you can even make up shit.
Swallowed everything so far? Now… hypothetically speaking (as always), there are hundreds of people involved. But there are only 26 letters in the alphabet. So, to describe someone you’re gonna have to have a combination of alphabets right? Do you get to choose really cool names then? Get a load of this.
So Jayee, Reagan and Beverly can come to the party as well.“Jayee, Reagan and Beverly from now known as Smarty Party, Party Farty and Party Shmuck are hereby, herewith and alongwith permitted for all social purposes to join Party A for the Party if, and if at all, invited by Party B for the Party wherein there shall be Spirit A, considering that Party B is not having Spirit B and Spirit C which really goes better with coke. Holy Shitus Magnificus.
Incase you’re having trouble with Latin.. I’ve provided a small non-patented list which you can use incase you ever draw up a contract. Feel free to use them.
Ratus Bittis my-asses
Upp-em yors-es.
Underwear Tightis
Bunnies humpalotis
If you got anymore legal crap you wanna add on… feel free.Next time we’re gonna talk about why Judges wear those weird wigs,what exactly does the steno do and why do lawyers have to wear teddy’s? Isn’t there any other lingerie they get to choose?NB: All names in the newsletter are fictitious and any similarity between real life people is purely coincidental.
PS: Dont' give me flak for writing 'anywoosies'. I'm under a lot of stress.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
WORK - wat dat?
Ola people!
How’s it goin? So, we’ve covered the Arts, family ties.. this week we’re gonna discuss work.
W-O-R-K. ‘The’ dirty 4-letter word. It sounds filthy every time I say it.
Downright blasphemous.
Work - a lousy way to make a living.
When did it all change? I remember a time when all you had to worry about was if the guys are gonna let you play football with them in the evening or is it going to be another evening of Hop Scotch with the neighbourhood girls.
And now –
Where is my career heading?
Is this what I was meant to do for the rest of my life?
Which month am I getting paid for anyway?
That HOT chick in accounts would look really cool if she didn’t have a moustache.
And there’s other crap like trying to figure out what language the people in your office are trying to speak.
Yesterday I heard my boss saying.. Jonathan.. we’ve got to get the T.P’s (transparencies) to our H.O. (HEAD OFFICE) so that they can start working on the C.G (computer graphics) A.S.A.P.
Oh.. I really hate ASAP. That’s the worst one.
So I turned around and told her, “sure… but hold on for a sec while I go for a P. and perhaps catch some Z’s and after surfing some P.O.R.N.O.G.R.A.P.H.Y.” Ok perhaps that last one didn’t really gel.
Oooh Oooh… yesterday I had this conversation with my brother.. and while describing his job said he was to embark on a project that would involve…(hold your breath)…’Crystallising the Offings’.
So I said.. dude… why’re you going around buying jewellery for other peoples kids?
And he says… No No my dear ignoramus. (I didn’t get that one either)
It involves projects that are not really projects, and I’ve got to make them REAL projects by crystallizing them.
Comprendez?
Non Signior.
Ok.. straying away from corporate jargon.. what about Time Sheets? Have any of you guys ever filled out a time sheet. Not me.. I never had the good fortune to fill one out.
For those of you who don’t know what a time sheet is, it’s a Break up of each working day and how constructively you spent it. And after a period of time, management uses it for appraisals.
I figured out what my time sheet will look like.
10:30 –11:00 – Getting sensitized to work surroundings.
11:00 – 12:00 – Catching up on daily world events to progressively broaden my world views (read the paper)
12:00 –1:00 – Analaysed my past eating habits and after drawing a pie chart, figured out what the present days consumption would be. (ordered lunch)
1:30 – 2:00 -- Lunch
2:00 – 4:00: -- Siesta, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
4:00 -- 5:00 : Surfed Porn, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
5:00 – 6:00 : Worked on the Pepsi campaign.
6:00 – 6:30 : Watched some TV.
Work.. it’s hard…it’s lousy… but somebody’s gotta do it.
If anybody’s got some kindda anecdote about work… do write in. You know what .. even if you don’t still write in anyway. Say something like.. "Hey bro... you're of freak of nature. Cheerio then!"
It helps boost morale around here.
How’s it goin? So, we’ve covered the Arts, family ties.. this week we’re gonna discuss work.
W-O-R-K. ‘The’ dirty 4-letter word. It sounds filthy every time I say it.
Downright blasphemous.
Work - a lousy way to make a living.
When did it all change? I remember a time when all you had to worry about was if the guys are gonna let you play football with them in the evening or is it going to be another evening of Hop Scotch with the neighbourhood girls.
And now –
Where is my career heading?
Is this what I was meant to do for the rest of my life?
Which month am I getting paid for anyway?
That HOT chick in accounts would look really cool if she didn’t have a moustache.
And there’s other crap like trying to figure out what language the people in your office are trying to speak.
Yesterday I heard my boss saying.. Jonathan.. we’ve got to get the T.P’s (transparencies) to our H.O. (HEAD OFFICE) so that they can start working on the C.G (computer graphics) A.S.A.P.
Oh.. I really hate ASAP. That’s the worst one.
So I turned around and told her, “sure… but hold on for a sec while I go for a P. and perhaps catch some Z’s and after surfing some P.O.R.N.O.G.R.A.P.H.Y.” Ok perhaps that last one didn’t really gel.
Oooh Oooh… yesterday I had this conversation with my brother.. and while describing his job said he was to embark on a project that would involve…(hold your breath)…’Crystallising the Offings’.
So I said.. dude… why’re you going around buying jewellery for other peoples kids?
And he says… No No my dear ignoramus. (I didn’t get that one either)
It involves projects that are not really projects, and I’ve got to make them REAL projects by crystallizing them.
Comprendez?
Non Signior.
Ok.. straying away from corporate jargon.. what about Time Sheets? Have any of you guys ever filled out a time sheet. Not me.. I never had the good fortune to fill one out.
For those of you who don’t know what a time sheet is, it’s a Break up of each working day and how constructively you spent it. And after a period of time, management uses it for appraisals.
I figured out what my time sheet will look like.
10:30 –11:00 – Getting sensitized to work surroundings.
11:00 – 12:00 – Catching up on daily world events to progressively broaden my world views (read the paper)
12:00 –1:00 – Analaysed my past eating habits and after drawing a pie chart, figured out what the present days consumption would be. (ordered lunch)
1:30 – 2:00 -- Lunch
2:00 – 4:00: -- Siesta, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
4:00 -- 5:00 : Surfed Porn, which of course is an integral part of any work place.
5:00 – 6:00 : Worked on the Pepsi campaign.
6:00 – 6:30 : Watched some TV.
Work.. it’s hard…it’s lousy… but somebody’s gotta do it.
If anybody’s got some kindda anecdote about work… do write in. You know what .. even if you don’t still write in anyway. Say something like.. "Hey bro... you're of freak of nature. Cheerio then!"
It helps boost morale around here.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Superheroes. Are they really super?
When you need a shoulder to cry on, when you need the support and the help , when you think any type of assistance is a distant forlorn dream, you can be sure he’ll be there. Superman. Ok Ok.. I know I’ve talked about this before but it has never been opened for discussion. How does Superman Pee? Oh Batman for that matter. And Spiderman.
Let’s start with Superman. One flaw which easily misses the naked eye is… he wears his underpants on the outside. So he’s on his way rescuing a puppy from a burning building and the need to make wee wee makes its presence felt. So he flies down to an ally, pulls down his undies… and ….whoah… what’s this. Pants underneath. And they’re skin tight. And that’s another thing.
You too Spiderman. Where in the world is your Zipper? Forget about the wee wee thingy, how about getting into the damn thing? Do you just fit in through the collar? All of you through the collar?Ok… here a tricky one for you. Does invisible man wear clothes? He can’t right? So basically he goes around naked. Unless he has one of those cloak thingies. I’m not sure. But if he doesn’t… then basically he is a nudist. For all you know he could be flashing people all over the world... and we call him a super hero! Yeah right pervert!
And who does this guy date anyway? I bet it must be weird... even with invisible woman. I bet she looks at an empty couch… having long conversations… thinking invisible man is a ‘good listener”. But this dude left after ten minutes to make a sandwich and to flash bat-woman. Lucky bastard.
How about superwoman. If she’s feeling ‘special’ does she wear lingerie instead of the customary red undy on the outside? Oh crap, just got this weird image. Superman in a red thong. Getting with the times. So many questions. Anybody have any answers?
Do write in,
Jonathan
Let’s start with Superman. One flaw which easily misses the naked eye is… he wears his underpants on the outside. So he’s on his way rescuing a puppy from a burning building and the need to make wee wee makes its presence felt. So he flies down to an ally, pulls down his undies… and ….whoah… what’s this. Pants underneath. And they’re skin tight. And that’s another thing.
You too Spiderman. Where in the world is your Zipper? Forget about the wee wee thingy, how about getting into the damn thing? Do you just fit in through the collar? All of you through the collar?Ok… here a tricky one for you. Does invisible man wear clothes? He can’t right? So basically he goes around naked. Unless he has one of those cloak thingies. I’m not sure. But if he doesn’t… then basically he is a nudist. For all you know he could be flashing people all over the world... and we call him a super hero! Yeah right pervert!
And who does this guy date anyway? I bet it must be weird... even with invisible woman. I bet she looks at an empty couch… having long conversations… thinking invisible man is a ‘good listener”. But this dude left after ten minutes to make a sandwich and to flash bat-woman. Lucky bastard.
How about superwoman. If she’s feeling ‘special’ does she wear lingerie instead of the customary red undy on the outside? Oh crap, just got this weird image. Superman in a red thong. Getting with the times. So many questions. Anybody have any answers?
Do write in,
Jonathan
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Family Matters
Comme Ca va? ... Marhaba… teshek delek. Nihao…Howdy!
None of those are made up. I’m making progress huh? I was once known… among the literary cirles as ‘multi lingual Jonathan.’ Primarily because of the fact that I could say “Holy shit” in exactly 2 languages.
Anyway, still on the lines of subjects of substance, today’s blog is about family ties- ties that bind, and strengthen and ties that are sometimes used for kinky sex. (focus jonathan... focus you horny bastard.. family ties.. not neck ties)
Ok….Ever since I was 8 years, my parents have been pleading with me to run away from home. Heehee…those jokers. Mom… dad… you were joking all those years right?
But seriously. have you ever thought about it. The subtle hints that your family gives you, subconsciously or not, to express how they feel for you. I have kept a log of events of such SUBTLE hints….
1 year old – One brother learns how to spell the word ‘asphyxiation’
1 year and 1 day – Learns the words ‘asphyxiation’ and ‘younger brother’ and tries to use them together… physically.
2 years and 3 days – Other brother… the kind soul that he is.. ties to send me to Jesus. Via garbage disposal.
5 years – ‘Supposedly’ got myself lost in the supermarket. The fact that my folks told me to run down the vegetable aisle, close my eyes and count to 100… seemed a bit fishy. When I saw them getting into the car and speeding away before I reached 5… proved certain suspicions.
6 years – Family dog bites me.
6 years 1 minute – Family dog starts chewing the door mat. Rumour has it that he was trying to get the previous awful taste from out from his mouth. Go figure!
9 years – Family buys a rotweiller. (Hmmmmm… why does he have a glazed look in his eyes. And why are they forcing me to play…'blow in the sweet doggies face’. And why am I the only one playing?)
Anyways.. it goes on and on. Infact Just the other day I received a bill from my mother asking me to pay for rent for the first 13 years of my life, food expenses…stationary.. the bill also includes 9 months rent while she was carrying me, and incidental expenses for labour pains. Hehehe.. funny Ma.
Ahh.. family. Who can survive without it. It’s a gift. To help one cope with life’s problems and deal with all the lemons life hands out.
So, if any of you guys wanna share with us anecdotes, stories et al about your freaky families, do write in,
Waiting, Ciao for now and .. blah blah blah
None of those are made up. I’m making progress huh? I was once known… among the literary cirles as ‘multi lingual Jonathan.’ Primarily because of the fact that I could say “Holy shit” in exactly 2 languages.
Anyway, still on the lines of subjects of substance, today’s blog is about family ties- ties that bind, and strengthen and ties that are sometimes used for kinky sex. (focus jonathan... focus you horny bastard.. family ties.. not neck ties)
Ok….Ever since I was 8 years, my parents have been pleading with me to run away from home. Heehee…those jokers. Mom… dad… you were joking all those years right?
But seriously. have you ever thought about it. The subtle hints that your family gives you, subconsciously or not, to express how they feel for you. I have kept a log of events of such SUBTLE hints….
1 year old – One brother learns how to spell the word ‘asphyxiation’
1 year and 1 day – Learns the words ‘asphyxiation’ and ‘younger brother’ and tries to use them together… physically.
2 years and 3 days – Other brother… the kind soul that he is.. ties to send me to Jesus. Via garbage disposal.
5 years – ‘Supposedly’ got myself lost in the supermarket. The fact that my folks told me to run down the vegetable aisle, close my eyes and count to 100… seemed a bit fishy. When I saw them getting into the car and speeding away before I reached 5… proved certain suspicions.
6 years – Family dog bites me.
6 years 1 minute – Family dog starts chewing the door mat. Rumour has it that he was trying to get the previous awful taste from out from his mouth. Go figure!
9 years – Family buys a rotweiller. (Hmmmmm… why does he have a glazed look in his eyes. And why are they forcing me to play…'blow in the sweet doggies face’. And why am I the only one playing?)
Anyways.. it goes on and on. Infact Just the other day I received a bill from my mother asking me to pay for rent for the first 13 years of my life, food expenses…stationary.. the bill also includes 9 months rent while she was carrying me, and incidental expenses for labour pains. Hehehe.. funny Ma.
Ahh.. family. Who can survive without it. It’s a gift. To help one cope with life’s problems and deal with all the lemons life hands out.
So, if any of you guys wanna share with us anecdotes, stories et al about your freaky families, do write in,
Waiting, Ciao for now and .. blah blah blah
Friday, September 29, 2006
Aesthetics
Ola people, Que Pasa. fuenta wiggy,
Ok.. maybe i made that last one up.
Sooooo another day, another blog... another reason to take those cyanide pills you've been saving for a special reason.
Ok... so i have this friend who claims that the topics selected for the blogs are MYOPIC. So i did what any self respecting pseudo writer would do. I ran home and quickly looked up MYOPIC in the dictionary -- Short Sighted.
Hmmm.. so i sat down, meditated, pondered, deliberated and.... nothing. All i could think of was super heroes, cartoon characters, nursery rhymes and who invented rubberbands. (Even that was stolen from someone else.) Just think about it. If rubber bands weren't invented.. how much fun would bungee jumping be. You'd just go down. That's it! Just like sky diving.. but without a parachute.
Anyways.. enough of rubber bands.
Last weekend, i went for the Khala Ghoda Festival in town. An exhibition of the arts. Ahhh.. something worthy of a blog. ART.
A couple of things here that need to be questioned and analysed.
Dont' these guys know how to colour within the lines? Watsup dudes? You're supposed to be artists. I'm no art crtitique extraordinaire, but i'm sure when you draw a river.. let the blue paint stay in the river. Not out into the mountains.. onto the frame and finally onto the exhibition wall.
Atleast that one chap painted a river. The next one was philiosophical. Deep. A canvas.. painted orange.
One shade of Orange. Period. One square canvas.. painted orange. WHAAAATTT! Do people get paid for that? And guess what... it was untitled. Can you believe he had trouble naming the painting.
Letsee.. this is a tough one. If i had to name it.. i would name it... "Nightmares and dreamscapes"??? "Flights of Fancy"... oohh oooh.. how bout this.
"FREAKING ORANGE CANVAS!"
It' gets better.
Next artist. He's takes an x-ray. And framed it. No jokes. But he does add his creative brush stroke to it. On the pinky toe, he put one tiny red dot.
Go figure. My brother (who's on the same tangent as these artists) seems to think he wants to denote cancer of the pinky toe.
I think he got some ketchup on by mistake before framing. Your guess is as good as mine.
I've already started on my set of canvas's. Even booked the Jehangir Art Gallery next week. This is what im gonna exhibit.
A sea blue Canvas with two tiny giraffes heads in the centre - titled- "Noah didn't see the rocks."
A red canvas - tited - "The spiritual and sadistical cold war between green and yellow."
A couple of horizontal lines - titled - " Horizontal lines"
Broken wallnut shells on a yellow canvas - titled " I'm in agony.. who broke my nuts?"
I need a couple of more ideas for exhibits.. so if anybody has any... do send them in as fast as possible. The more insane the better. I'll split the profits.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,
Jonathan
Ok.. maybe i made that last one up.
Sooooo another day, another blog... another reason to take those cyanide pills you've been saving for a special reason.
Ok... so i have this friend who claims that the topics selected for the blogs are MYOPIC. So i did what any self respecting pseudo writer would do. I ran home and quickly looked up MYOPIC in the dictionary -- Short Sighted.
Hmmm.. so i sat down, meditated, pondered, deliberated and.... nothing. All i could think of was super heroes, cartoon characters, nursery rhymes and who invented rubberbands. (Even that was stolen from someone else.) Just think about it. If rubber bands weren't invented.. how much fun would bungee jumping be. You'd just go down. That's it! Just like sky diving.. but without a parachute.
Anyways.. enough of rubber bands.
Last weekend, i went for the Khala Ghoda Festival in town. An exhibition of the arts. Ahhh.. something worthy of a blog. ART.
A couple of things here that need to be questioned and analysed.
Dont' these guys know how to colour within the lines? Watsup dudes? You're supposed to be artists. I'm no art crtitique extraordinaire, but i'm sure when you draw a river.. let the blue paint stay in the river. Not out into the mountains.. onto the frame and finally onto the exhibition wall.
Atleast that one chap painted a river. The next one was philiosophical. Deep. A canvas.. painted orange.
One shade of Orange. Period. One square canvas.. painted orange. WHAAAATTT! Do people get paid for that? And guess what... it was untitled. Can you believe he had trouble naming the painting.
Letsee.. this is a tough one. If i had to name it.. i would name it... "Nightmares and dreamscapes"??? "Flights of Fancy"... oohh oooh.. how bout this.
"FREAKING ORANGE CANVAS!"
It' gets better.
Next artist. He's takes an x-ray. And framed it. No jokes. But he does add his creative brush stroke to it. On the pinky toe, he put one tiny red dot.
Go figure. My brother (who's on the same tangent as these artists) seems to think he wants to denote cancer of the pinky toe.
I think he got some ketchup on by mistake before framing. Your guess is as good as mine.
I've already started on my set of canvas's. Even booked the Jehangir Art Gallery next week. This is what im gonna exhibit.
A sea blue Canvas with two tiny giraffes heads in the centre - titled- "Noah didn't see the rocks."
A red canvas - tited - "The spiritual and sadistical cold war between green and yellow."
A couple of horizontal lines - titled - " Horizontal lines"
Broken wallnut shells on a yellow canvas - titled " I'm in agony.. who broke my nuts?"
I need a couple of more ideas for exhibits.. so if anybody has any... do send them in as fast as possible. The more insane the better. I'll split the profits.
Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff,
Jonathan
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Dog Happiness
Happiness. Yes people, i thought we should get a little serious for once. No more nusery rhymes, stupid proverbs and nonsensical suggestions. I'm talking about serious introspection. Are you really really happy with your life? You know what I wanna be. I wanna be Dog Happy. You notice how they're on top of the world just by sniffing someones butt! Then they got that tail wagging thing going on, and they'll jump up and down just because they sniffed someones posterior. That's all it took. No parallels drawn to other dogs leashes or clipped nails to measure their level of happiness. No.. they're not materialistic. I'm not saying that I want to start sniffing people's behinds to get a high, but I want to derive the same ecstasy out of the simple things in life. Just like how a dog gets ecstatic when you put down the window while driving and he sticks his head out, I want to stick my head out and get ecstatic . Yup.. stick my head out of my BMW and get delirious. It's the little things. I wanna own property by just by peeing on the place. Just like a doggy marks it territory. Just imagine .. you're walking by this huge sea-facing bungalow, you like it - just spray the place.. and it yours! Wohoo! No worries about Title deeds, mortgages, house papers.. and money. Someone says... Wow what a place yours? You can say proud and loud Yup... just peed on it yesterday Of course, thinking aloud now, you might want to electrically charge the fence to your place afterwards to ward off future pee-ers. OK OK I know what you're thinking. You're saying Jonathan what about that castration and neutering thingy. That might hurt a bit. Well, I say... small price for the rules of doggy relationships. No commitment required. One night stands are just fine. And there atleast nobody thinks you've lost it when you howl after passionate wild intimacy. Not that I howl. Loudly. It's more of a whimper actually. Nevertheless, I think I got my point through. The two legged animals got this whole happiness thing wrong. Take it from me (nooo noo.. i have two legs as well) derive happiness from the smaller things in life, and it'll be much more fulfilling.
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