Lunchtime inspiration —

Q: What do you get if you make Rabindranath Tagore blush?
A: A Sharmila Tagore.

Damn, I kill myself sometimes. Pliss don’t kill me?

PJ from four years ago —

Q: What does a Bay Area software developer say when he fixes a bug?
A: Hasta la vista, bay bee!

Revised PJ from this morning —

Q: What does a Bay Area Microsoft developer say when he fixes a bug?
A: Hasta la Vista, bay bee!

Don’t you just love self-upgrading PJs? Hee haw! Total CT only. Cheap thrills, that is.

We’re back! Erm. Eeeps. Sorry. No really. We are not going to make any excuses this time. (Mostly cos we have none.) Instead we’ll just start talking furiously, distract you with words and hope that you will not notice that we were gone. So yes, we came back from our trip (it wasn’t THAT long to begin with, you know) and a few weeks after that, came down with a mysterious tummy-ache. We say mysterious cos three doctors of different shapes, sizes and specializations couldn’t figure out what was wrong with us over three different days. (Not one doctor per day, mind you.) Led to conversations like —

Doc: <poke in side of tummy, lets call it spot A> Does it hurt?
Me: Ow. Yes.
Doc: <poke in a spot two inches away from first spot, call it B> Does it hurt here?
Me: Ow. Yes.
Doc: <poke in spot A and spot B in quick succession> Which of the two hurts more?
Me: @#$^&!!
Doc: Okay, so it hurts equally, I guess?

Anyhoo, tests had to be done and unpleasant body fluids had to be collected —

Doc: I will need a urine sample.
Me: I’m sorry, I don’t pee on demand. I have already stripped on demand, but pee on demand, that is something I cannot manage. I have morals and all that.
<backup doc giggling in background>
Doc: Er, okay. I’ll just leave this cup here then.

<exit main doc>

Backup doc: <more giggles> That was funny! You should come here more often!
Me: Er, no?
She: No?
Me: This is a hospital?
She: Oh. Right.

Tsk. After all that, we were sent home with antibiotics for a sinus infection. Huh. All in our head. Literally.

And oh yes, the trip was incredible and we have a lot to say and show for it. We must thank you all for not giving up on us while we were languishing in pain. We weren’t in pain as much as discomfort, but if pain is what will stop you from being hard on us, pain it shall be. Your pokes (unlike the doctor’s), prods, reminders, cajoling, taunts and polite enquiries are all very appreciated.

Particular credit must be given to our judwa-behen (who we affectionately call JB. No we are not very creative when we are affectionate, I suppose) who provided us with sympathetic pat-pats while we whined. And the Dog for that reprimand we got in our commentspace. As our maatashri always says, sticks and stones have never broken our bones but a ‘What have you got to say for yourself, young lady!’ in a stern voice, always gets results. And to the Lou-puddle who was convinced that we never went to Europe, and that we made it up just to avoid posting. Such unshakeable faith, I tell ya. And the self-confessed crotchety geriatric who optimistically asked us if we died or something. Warmed the cockles of our heart, it did. With love like this, we’d even come back from the dead, all Om Shanti Om types. Ah yes, that is what we are going to write about next.

Did we mention it is good to be back?

*tiptoes into room hoping nobody notices her return only to be greeted by a bunch of angry stares*

Um .. er .. hello. Didn’t see you there. *gulp* Well, we have been a little busy. Yes, fruitful paychecks and such. Sinful stomach asks questions, as you know. What’s that? The blog? No no, it didn’t die. We thought it wrote itself. Clearly we were mistaken. But that would be a pretty neat thing, no? A self-writing blog. No? You don’t find that clever? Fine. Poop on all our ideas.

So in exciting news from the countryside, we will be doing a bit of traveling at the end of August. Where to, you ask? Paris! Yes, Paris, France. La ville lumiére, city of lights and all that exciting hoo-haa. As you can imagine, we are fluttering around like an annoyingly chirpy ballerina whose tutu you want to set on fire. And of course, we are furiously practicing to say oui oui in a way that would make Rajendranath proud, telling everyone the PJ about the Pakistani hooker in Paris called Lahore, practicing to smile like the Mona Lisa and generally figuring out how to stuff an entire city into three days. It seems impossible, but if we manage to do it, we’ll be sure to come back and tell you how. With pictures to boot.

And if that were not enough we are also going to Belgium! Antwerp and Brussels. Hee haw. Yes yes, we will wait while you are done turning an appropriate shade of green. Finished? Good. Now, the only things we associated with Belgium until a month ago were 1) Tintin 2) Hercule Poirot 3) chocolates 4) waffles and 5) diamonds. And while the last few weeks have taught us that there’s more to the country than sharp men with a penchant for cracking mysteries, our desire for items four and more so five, remains. In fact, it seems our folks brought us up on a steady diet of kitschy Hindi movies for this day only. So we have decided to buy ourselves that ugly wide leather belt with a secret zippered pouch and by golly we are going to smuggle them diamonds back in it. So what if we have to wear a golden wig and red-tinted sunglasses and speak like Ajit? Of course, there is the minor detail of how we will come into possession of the said rocks, so if there’s a good heist movie you know, now would be a very good time to make recommendations.

Oh and we forgot to tell — we had a delightful little chat with an entertainingly rude Delta Air Lines customer service representative. After a frustrating half hour of explaining to her that it was the airline’s fault for screwing up the ticket and we shouldn’t be charged the penalty, she chimed back with a — Even if it is Delta’s fault, that is a mute point! We politely told her that if we muted the phone while she was trying to make a point, *that* would be a mute point. In fact, we’d be happy to demonstrate what we mean. Strangely, she didn’t seem to like that. Heh.

Be back with lots of pictures, stories and fun things to tell you. Keep the blog alive until then, will ya?

Q: Can Dharmendra talk out of his ass?
A: Yesh, it is paajibull.

Heh. I kill myself sometimes. Well, not literally. Don’t get too happy now.