Archive for February, 2009

When Optimism Gets Irritating

Posted: February 28, 2009 in Uncategorized

Went to the all-island young speakers’ contest last night, like I do every year.
And man, the standard has officially dropped.

Of course, the contestants have mastered the art of speaking in itself very nicely.
Good posture, great gestures and articulation of the words, blah blah.

But the content of most of their speeches…
What ganja have these guys been smoking and where can I get some?

Suddenly, it’s become trendy to repetitively use the words free, happiness, hope, love, family, friends, enjoy life, join the hippy movement!
Ok, maybe not that last one but you get the message.

And then repetitively quote and mention Gandhi, Thomas Edison, Franklin, Lincoln, Roosevelt, Mummy Teresa, oh and lately, Obama.

Optimism is a nice thing, yes, and those people are great and all, but this is overkill, dahling.

This is pretty much an example, albeit exaggerated, of one of these newage speeches:

You can climb mount Everest! Become president! Become the richest man in the world! Invent a cure for AIDS!

You can do anything, literally, anything. Really, anything at all. Just close your eyes and open your heart, and love love love! Open up your soul and fill it up with hope! Fill everything up with love and hope and.. and love and stuff. And care for people! Spread the love! Don’t wage war, it’s bad! Hold hands and care for people and be happy, man. Peace.

Oh and I love puppies and kittens.

Come, let us sing a song by Bob Marley, and then read a John Lennon poem!
Then let’s get naked and dance in a daisy patch and sing about the sunshine and the butterflies, and love will save us all!

Now I shall walk off the stage after saying something real catchy like ‘enjoy life!’ or ‘the powah is yours!’ with a squinty look on my face that makes me look like I’m a wise old man who has achieved nirvana, or just someone who’s been smoking shitloads of some really good weed.

Chokka Bunnis sitting next to me was just as horrified, voicing a dramatic ‘What is happening to our youth, man?’

Blind unconditional cliché positivism like that has already been hackneyed by grade school kids, boys and girls.
Optimism appeals to the masses, but only when handled with a firm hand of realism. Wearing a theatrically wide-eyed hopeful look on the face and singing about how love is the answer to all our problems, only works in a theatre. When you’re playing the role of a hippy.

I was bored by most of the event, needless to say.
What served as entertainment for the night was a 7 year old who applauded at all the wrong times, the man’s chair in front of me making a hilarious fart noise (I kid you not!) whenever he shifted positions (yes I am sure it was the chair!), and some guy’s gorgeous converse shoes (I waaaant!).

The winner of this year’s contest definitely had close to nil competition. Delivered optimism with some real credibility and intelligence.

Hats off to all speakers, for the courage to get onstage when a thousand eyes are scrutinizing your every word and move, and still be able to speak, let alone speak well.

But please. No cheese and corn next time kay?
Got enough last night to last me a lifetime.

What you don’t know

Posted: February 28, 2009 in Uncategorized

…about yours truly.

Tis a late follow-up of that old 25 odd facts about oneself thing, and I’m feeling self indulgent.
More so than usual. 😉
Worry not! I’ve cut it down to 10, cuz 25’s a bit blah.

1. Police personnel make me nervous.

2. Above my right knee is a scar the size of an index finger from a bone fracture accident.

3. I know all the words to The Phantom of the Opera songs, to all old-school Linkin Park songs… and to all those gay songs by NSync (oh the shame!).

4. I have a thing for guys who can sing and guys with curly hair.

5. I had an imaginary friend called Kenshi when I was 10.

6. My name translates to my cure in its language of origin.

7. I prefer writing with a fountain pen than with ballpoint or whatever.

8. I planted a small bug in my rival’s hair in sixth grade.

9. I dream of flying, when I’m asleep, when I’m awake, all day.

10. I have a severe fear of pedophiles, even though I’m pretty much out of the victim age range. o_O

So there ya have it! Too much information. 😀

And Chapter 6 of whatsitsname is coming soon! Stay tuned, foo’.

Twilight: a big joke?

Posted: February 27, 2009 in Uncategorized

Ok, what the hell was all that stupid haa-hoo about the movie Twilight for?

Oooh Edward Cullen is such a heartthrob!
Oooh such a romantic movie!

ooOOo marry me, edward! lolz! on everybody’s MSN personal messages.

So obviously, I was expecting some sort of real Casanova quality combined with some cool vampire funkyness, as seen by Lestat or Blade villains.
Or at the very least some average acting by 2 young actors not new to the limelight.
But, my god, WHAT a ginormous disappointment.
The universe’s blackholes combined stood no contest to how much Twilight sucked.

The acting couldn’t be described as anything short of tepid. In all honesty, Britney’s performance in Crossroads was way more credible.

And what was with that vampire family? A freaking 21st century, wannabe-Addams Family.
They go out together to play baseball? Baseball?
Then the showdown between wannabe-Addams Family and the guys in tacky versions of badass-vampire-getups…

Hello? Are you being serious?
I swear on my kitten’s grave, when that showdown happened, I was sitting there and laughing, quite seriously considering the possibility of this movie being a spoof of real vampire movies.

To guide us through a tactlessly explained, poorly strung-together story, is the pale-faced, lip-biting, completely blank and lost looking Bella.
Then we have Edward Cullen, the vampire boy and the love interest.
What is it about him that has got so many irritating girls squealing in my ears about how they love him so?

Sure, cute smile, nice hairdo. Broodingly quiet, so a bit interesting. And his pale as dead skin and creepy ogling pretty much had the vampire thing down. He uses his super vampire agility to take the girl piggy-back-riding through the woods, fun. But otherwise, a thoroughly forgettable performance.

It’s hard to choose which was more embarassing, the emotionless acting, the total awkward non-chemistry between the girl and the vampire, or the movie’s painfully unsuccesful attempt at combining the vampire tale with puppydog love.

This 2008 Giant Flop apparently did quite the contrary of flopping at the Box Office.
How is this possible, I ask you?
Is everybody mad or is my opinion just so freakishly warped? 😛

Piggy back ride! whee!

Dear Auntie

Posted: February 26, 2009 in Uncategorized

This is in response to your little visit with Mother the other day, concerning certain questions that were surreptitiously asked about me and my, ahem, marital preferences.

Darling Auntie, if you wanted to know what sort of man I would tie myself to for the rest of my life, all you had to do was ask!

What is all this visiting under the false pretense of delivering a pudding and may I have a word with you in private about that pot plant in the garden and then sneaking Mother off to the kitchen and asking her instead?
Beating around the proverbial bush no?

And pot plant, Auntie?
Surely you could have thought up something more creative than that?

Well let us get straight down to business, shall we?

The ideal candidate for the subject at hand, would have to be precisely within the height range 6.2ft>x>5.8ft. Not an inch more or less.

He would have to be quite fluent in matters of general worldly matters, poetry and literature, comedy, philosophy… business, economics, science… a bit of french and italian. Throw in some chinese for good measure (you know how they’re saying the chinese are slowly taking over the world no Auntie?).

Oh and he’s got to know how to cook. Gourmet meals of course.

A sharp set jaw and six pack is absolutely necessary, Auntie. After all, you want your future grand-nieces’n’nephews to have the best of the physical assets no?

He has to be very funny. So funny, that when he makes a joke, the whole room should erupt into raucous laughter. And one or two should find it hard to breathe even. From all the laughing I mean.

He has to obviously have a serious side too ah. Can’t be joking around all the time. He has to have a deep brooding side that suddenly will look at the moon and say something really.. well, deep. Preferably complimenting my face to the radiance of the moon, or some such thing.

Then on weekends and all, he’s a bungee jumping, scuba diving, travelling sort of fellow. Must have some good fun no?

He should be able to dance nicely also. Why? Aney, just.

So in a nutshell, this bloke you’re searching for to be betrothed to your angelic niece, has to be very caring, but not too possessive, opulent but not spoilt, strong-willed but not bossy, well-read but not too bookish, must be serious, but funny also, very sensitive but rugged, must have a stable job but must take me hang-gliding every now and then, must be good looking but not in a corny Clark Gable sort of way.


Better write a proper list, and when you’re doing your little brokering thing, put a check or cross next to each requirement for each candidate.
You can send me the files later for consideration.

Now it might seem to you that I’ve made all this up to just trip you up, but who would suggest such a preposterous thing!

A suspicion might occur to you on your endless quest that finding this man is treacherously painstaking, and you might want to rest your facilities, and maybe even give up.
Please know that if you choose to do so, I would most whole heartedly understand.
That, in fact, it might even make me a bit.. ecstatic.

Your loving niece,

P.S. That pudding you brought was real tasty ah.

To be 16 again?

Posted: February 26, 2009 in Uncategorized

Close your eyes and imagine you’re a 16 year old girl.
Even the boys, go on, imagine. 😛

So my ‘creative prowess’ (ehehe!) is being exploited by Lansi, who’s requested my help to create a birthday gift for a 16 year old.

It’s going to be a huge canvas-collage filled with random 16-year-old-girl stuff itseems.

I can’t really remember much about my 16th year besides the general mad careless fun of tenth grade, a few crushes and being a maha pandithaya about everything (some things never change!).

So I’d love some feedback from you guys on what you think being 16 is all about.
About everything from youth to discovery to pimples to parents! In any shape or form of poem, prose, picture or random jibber jabber.

Be as creative and as uncheesy as possible, no lines from Britney’s Not a girl, not yet a woman song please. 😉


A Bug’s Life

Posted: February 24, 2009 in Uncategorized

I have a confession to make.

I have committed Counter Anti-Roachism.
Otherwise known as, doing the opposite of killing cockroaches on sight.

Now, I’ve deduced that this is probably viewed as a grave mutinous crime against humanity by the general blogosphere, what with severe anti-roach protests initiated by popular bloggers Unsilent Dawn and blackexists here and there.

Let it be known that I, too, loathe cockroaches, albeit not as passionately.
They are unhygienic and live in dustbins and poopy places, and thinking of all those germs on their hairy feet creeps my OCD-stricken self out.

Last night, I got into the shower cubicle to wash some paint off my toes from a previous painting mishap.
The corner of my eye catches a tiny browney thing swivelling towards its doom to the draining-out-hole thing.

Twas going to be pushed by water metres down a dark pipe and probably drown and die alone.
Its life was probably flashing past its tiny bug eyes right then as I contemplated all this.

I switched the tap off, and by that time the roach was hanging on the edges of the draining-out-hole thing. Hanging for its life. Its tiny arms/legs/whatever struggling to pull its weight over the top.

Aney pau. 😦

I really felt a genuine sorrow for it. It was probably thinking..

I didn’t even get to see the dumps in Paris like in my dreams!
I didn’t get to tell Lucy that I love her!
And the kids.. well I guess I’ll never see them again.
I didn’t even get to infect those anti-roach bloggers with some bacterial disease!
I guess this is the end then.. Goodbye, cruel worl-

Oh wait.

Hey, you, big weird human lady.. Yeah you. Hi.

Help meh pleez! Oh noes, I think I am going to cwy. D:

So I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t turn on the tap and drown it.
Not when it was looking up like that and wiggling around, struggling to survive.

I looked around for something. Found an ancient toothbrush on a shelf which hadn’t been used in eons.
And I used its stick-end to push the poor fellow out of the hole and into the light.
Off he scuttled shouting,
i’m alive, i’m aliiiiive! o and thankyoo, kind hyooman.

So yes. I saved a cockroach. I am sorry if I have offended anyone..

But if you like, try to kill me in my sleep for helping out the bugs who are allegedly the biggest threat to the human race as we know it, just remember the roaches are on MY side now!
And they’ll getcha!

But yeah. I’d still totally kill one if it flew too close to my face.

Worst Pick-up Line

Posted: February 24, 2009 in Uncategorized

So the funniest thing happened to me on the way home yesterday no!
It was straight out of a freaking cheesy Tamil movie.

I’d just finished off an assignment and took a tuk-tuk back home, and got dropped off a few blocks from my lane cuz I felt like taking a little afternoon walk.

Skipping down the pavement, I heard a HEY on my left and saw two 20-somethings on motorbikes.
Rating of cuteness: 8/10.
Yes I always size things up, terribly condescending no?

‘Heylo’ said they, in a questionable tone of voice.
Which pretty much translates to Joey Tribbiani’s ‘How you doin’?‘ in SL-guys-checking-girls-out slang. 😛

No biggy, just kept walking. And while I was getting closer to my lane, the silly coots drive by way too close to the pavement with another insistent Heylo!

So one of the buggers is sitting on his bike in the distance and looking behind, whilst I am inevitably walking in his direction. I cross the street prematurely instead.

Finally get into my lane. Vroom vroom noise somewhere behind me. Pesky tuk-tuks, I think.

SUDDENLEH, this guy appears on his bike on my left, while I’m just a few gates from my house.
‘Hey.. can I like.. have your number?’
Wow. Awesome pick up line, Mister Suave.
‘Uh no…?’
‘No, I am not giving you my number…?’
‘Bugger off, man. Me-no-number-give, comprehendé?’
‘Pleaaaz?’ Nervous puppy-dog-look.
WTF. 😐 Had to struggle not to laugh. Does he seriously think that’ll work?
‘No.. leave me alone kay?’
‘Okay..’ Looking sad and dejected, the silly goose follows me a few feet more just for good measure, then turns his bike around.
Oh but he’s not done yet.
‘Well… maybe you could take my number in case-‘
At this point, my face is contorted with a strange mix of confusion and about-to-burst-out-laughing-ness.
Mister Suave finally gets the message at that point and leaves, his motorbike grunting with the pang of rejection.

LOL I almost feel sorry for the poor guy. Seemed like a harmless little thing, a kid on his bike so naive enough to imagine a girl would stop in her tracks and hand him her number on polite request.
Amusing, and atleast he gets credit for building up the guts. 😉

And I know what Saint Muffin would have to say about this.
Shaa cute boys on motorbikes practically throwing themselves at you now ah? Too much!

Yes. Yes they are. 😀

The Importance of Being Idle

Posted: February 23, 2009 in Uncategorized

The product of boredom, some paper, and ballpoint pens…


Boredom‘s doldrums were unavoidable, yet also a primordial soup for some of life’s most quintessentially human moments…
A long drive home after a frustrating day could force ruminations. A pang of homesickness at the start of a plane ride might put a journey in perspective.

Increasingly, these empty moments are being saturated with productivity, communication and the digital distractions offered by an ever-expanding array of slick mobile devices…

But are we too busy twirling through the songs on our iPods – while checking email, while changing lanes on the highway – to consider whether we are giving up a good thing?
We are most human when we feel dull.

Lolling around in a state of restlessness is one of life’s greatest luxuries – one not available to creatures that spend all their time pursuing mere survival.

To be bored is to stop reacting to the external world, and to explore the internal one.
It is in these terms of reflection that people often discover something new, whether it is an epiphany about a relationship or a new theory about the way the universe works.

Granted, many people emerge from boredom feeling that they have accomplished nothing.
But is accomplishment really the point of life?
There is a strong argument that boredom – so often parodied as a glassy-eyed drooling state of nothingness – is an essential human emotion that underlies art, literature, philosophy, science, and even love.

The Joy of Boredom, by Carolyn Johnson

Thatta Motta Kukul Betta

Posted: February 22, 2009 in Uncategorized

Remember that old rhyme?
Wtf is it insinuating anyway.
Direct translation: baldness, bird-poop. Uh.. 😐

In the recent 35 degree Colombo heat, I have contemplated shaving my head bald.
Hip length hair doesn’t cope too well with the heat, you see.
Mummy darling didn’t take too well to the suggestion though.

Me: So like, I’m gonna shave my head bald.
Mum: Ok dea- WHAT?
Me: Ehehe.
Mum: Who is putting these deviant ideas into your head, child? Girls these days.. I don’t know what.. (somethinsomethin about the difficulty of finding a husband)
Me: -_-

I mean, what is the practical purpose of head hair anyway?
Besides the obvious aesthetic pleasantness, the bit of insulation (useful when it’s cold), and the money and time squandered to keep it clean and smooth with water, shampoo and conditioners, it’s pretty pointless.

Wouldn’t it be cool if human head hair had a superior purpose, like the flagella of bacteria helps with locomotion…?

For centuries, bald people have been ostracized and cruelly giggled at.
And a woman going bald is almost completely unheard of. Unless you’re a cancer patient or a hippy, or an actress playing one of the two.
And bald people in general public (except for some boys who can pull it off nicely) are often considered Freaks, evil villains, egg-headed-creatures, or all of the above.

Well, lemme tell you, bub, though hopelessly balding is definitely uncool, Bald can be pretty cool.
Personally, I think it accentuates one’s features, so if you’ve got the features, I say go for it.

Examples of Uncool Bald:

Britney-bald/ Awkward-midlife-crisis-bald(ing)

But behold, the ranges in Cool Bald:



Hot-celebrity-bald (not to be confused with Britney-bald)


And the ultimate Cool Bald, Avatar-bald:

Ok, so I was bored and started Image-Googling variations of the word Bald.

Besides my justification of Baldness, and my hopeless wish that society and Mother will permit me to fulfill my bald fantasy some day (OHOH with an Avatar arrow painted atop!), I watched two kickass movies on the weekend.

1. Across the Universe (2007)
Thanks for the reference, Sig! This movie-musical is awesome purely for one reason: it had ALL my favourite Beatles songs in it!

2. Fight Club (1999)
Yeah I’m a little late on this one. 😛
Hands down, one of the best movies EV0R!
I heart Edward Norton.
And the movie is like, the inside of my brain. o_O

Who’s a Real RocknRolla?

Posted: February 21, 2009 in Uncategorized

“People ask the question… what’s a RocknRolla?
And I tell ’em – it’s not about drums, drugs, and hospital drips, oh no. There’s more there than that, my friend. We all like a bit of the good life – some the money, some the drugs, others the sex game, the glamour, or the fame.

But a RocknRolla, oh, he’s different. Why? Because a real RocknRolla wants the fucking lot.”

The opening to Guy Ritchie’s brilliant 2008 production,RocknRolla.

The storyline is an entertainingly sensationalized portrayal of Underground London: the fight for power among the kings of corruption. The movie adds that glamorous touch of class to the lives of British mobsters; they’re not ‘gangsters’, oh no, they’re merely entrepreneurs. 😉

And am I the only one who thinks guys with British accents are hot?
Cuz they are. Srsly.

At the top of the hierarchy is Lenny Cole (Tom Wilkinson), the self-proclaimed God of London (“There’s no school like old school, and I’m the fuckin’ headmaster! Got it?”); is he in the Mafia or something? you might ask. He IS the Mafia, babe.
At his side is the smart and efficient Archie (my favourite char in the movie), who also plays narrator.

The story unfolds as Russian entrepreneur Uri Omovich opens a business deal with Lenny.
Uri lets Lenny borrow an expensive painting, his ‘lucky painting’, till their deal is closed. The painting goes missing, and things aren’t going too well for Lenny.

Along the way, ‘The Wild Bunch’ is thrown into the mayhem, the underdogs in the game for power, Handsome Bob, Mumbles and One Two (Gerard Butler). We’re also introduced to Uri’s mysterious and irresistable accountant, Stella (Thandie Newton), a player in the game as well, albeit surreptitiously.
Also interesting are the little glimpses into the life of Lenny’s estranged rockstar son, Johnny Quid, who isn’t as unintelligent a junkie as they estimate him to be.

The struggle for the ‘fucking lot’, as the opening words put it, seems to be the story’s central theme, deliciously accentuated by the soundtrack Black Strobe’s I’m a Man, the catchiest beat to shake awake that little part in all of us that secretly dreams about living the life of a rock ‘n’ roller.

Rich with sardonic humour (my favourite kind), guys bitch-slapping each other, razor-sharp screen shots and direction (almost as sharp as the script), and with an unforgettable finalé, RocknRolla‘s an instant favourite on my movie list.
A must-watch.

Rating: 8.5/10

The sequel, The Real RocknRolla‘s coming up soon. Can’t wait!
Some words to ponder about, courtesy of Johnny Quid, philosophizing life based on the 2 sides of a box of cigarettes…

All you need to know about life is retained in those four walls.

You will notice that one of your personalities is seduced by the illusions of grandeur – the gold packet of king size with a regal insignia, an attractive implication towards grandeur and wealth, the subtle suggestion that cigarettes are indeed your royal and loyal friends, and that, Pete, is a lie.

Your other personality is trying to draw your attention to the flip side of the discussion, written in boring bold black and white, it’s a statement that these neat little soldiers of death are in fact trying to kill you and that, Pete, is the truth.

Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and I’m addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren.

That that starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet.