TGIM - Thank God Its Monday

I have a problem…I have a problem with this breed of people who walk around office with so much excitement, who behave like they would rather be at work than spend the time lazing around at home and I have a problem when they carry an attitude of a Friday when on a Monday. This breed of people is the breed that is on their way to greener pastures or in corporate terms, is going through their notice period. In fact I don’t even like this term “notice period” …, I get the feeling, if you don’t put in your papers, you go through an “unnoticed” period. It rubs it in…doesn’t it?
Have you observed these guys during meetings…no deadline is impossible, no business requirement is difficult and they come out of the meeting feelings like the rest of us are lesser mortals. This is possibly the way the Neanderthal man would have looked at the pre-historic men and said…ok monkey men…we have invented the bow N arrow…so you continue to throw your stones at each other but we have upgraded!
Also the other thing that annoys me…the way the announcement of people leaving is made. So, we are already going through this predicament of seeing our colleague get a 60% hike with a fancy job title and the announcement from our boss goes like…well Loganathan has decided to move on…and all us stand like a jack ass feeling even more stagnant. I mean, what is this “move on”, who came up with this term. The person that coined this term...has he cared to even think about how low and small the rest of us would feel?
To all you leavers and movers…Life comes a full circle…just a matter of time before you get into the rigmarole of deadlines, work pressure, screw ups and appraisals! Remember…like in life, honeymoon can’t go on forever…enjoy it while it lasts, because very soon marriage would take over! Amen!

H for Hen

I come from a family where curd rice (“thayir sadham”) with mango pickle (vadu manga) is considered staple diet. No amount of convincing that even a badly cooked chicken tikka tastes better than a well made brinjal curry could discourage their love for vegetarianism. Afternoons are normally spent talking about the engineering line that my three year old should pick up or about the latest entrants amongst my relatives into the marriage market and their possible pairing, the right fixed (with an emphasize on the “ed” in typical south Indian fashion) deposit schemes and on Sumathi’s dilemma. The last one is a character from a popular sun TV soap.
It was one of those afternoons where my son was going through his drill of weekly coaching of slogas that he can recite, songs that he can sing and on his ability to call out the English alphabets, a legacy left by our forefather’s the Britishers. He was confidently calling out Apple, Ball, Cat etc every time the alphabet card with a picture was pulled out…it was a treat for the entire family. Even as the recital performance was one, my grandfather in his characteristic 1960’s tone and English speaking style was like…see I told you he is a brilliant boy and will make the family proud…” and even before he could complete the sentence the “H” card with a picture of a hen was pulled out and Sashank confidently blurts out “Chicken”. There was a stunned silence, a grave sin has been committed , blasphemy indeed…and the entire family looks at me and in unison go like…see what you have done, Sashank said “chicken”!
It’s been a week since and I am still trying to get him to say…”H for Hen”

The perils of an admission process!

Did you check out the new gal that has joined ….Purple haze continues to rock man!, a tattoo on the right shoulder looks so kewl dude, did you check out this other gal that has joined…a matter of time, marriage and kid(s) before all of these conversations become a distant memory and you get to that point in life where most of your conversation revolves around “school admission”.

As frivolous as it sounds, this seemingly simple process has a lot of intricacies which the lesser mortals (read “happy” single men/women, SINK & DINK couples) fail to comprehend. Until recently I was completely oblivious to the thought of little Sashank having the need for a 14 year long education program; corporate experience has “gyaned” into me that some solid spreadsheet expertise and classy presentation skills with MS power point is all that it takes to “excel” in life and I was planning to let my son tread this path instead of going through the rigmarole of algebra, grammer, newton’s laws and kabir ke dohe. Of course, sensibility prevailed in the form of my wife and it took just one afternoon conversation to start preparing an illustrious list of “school” with pros and cons.

The next couple of weeks were really interesting. This is when it dawned into me that almost everyone in my apartment complex is only talking about schools. I realized this topic was always on, but in the past I only heard all that I wanted to hear. It is amazing, the interest and enthusiasm with which parents (most often the moms) talk about their analysis on schools. They go like…this school has a student to teachers to class room ratio of 18: 2.75: 3.015 and I reckon this is bloody good. And another one goes… this school starts IIT coaching from class 5 onwards and you are either guaranteed an admission into IIT or into a top school in the US. And as I hear all this, I go like…damn……why dint my parents think of all this…look what they did to me!

After all the analysis and paralysis, my odyssey into the first school admission process began. Kavita ensured I am well groomed, clad in a neatly ironed attire and hair well kempt so that when I present myself as a parent, I get an instant respect and possibly an admission as well. The last time I went so early only to stand in a long line of forlorn people is when I went for my US visa some ten years ago. To beg and plead for an “admission” into a place that does not hesitate much to show its displeasure in having you, comes naturally to me. I had rehearsed at least a hundred times on the hierarchy of classes- nursery to mont1 to mont 2 and in the most husky voice possible asked for an admission form to mont 1. And then followed it up with the obvious question (which is a strict protocol in this procedure)…my son would be 3 years and 10 months and 5 days and 20 hours at the time of admission – so will it be ok. The lady at the counter did some math in her head and followed it up with a half nod. I think the single most proof that the person you are in conversation with is least interested in you is if she responds with a half nod. I am ok with the full nod or even the blink of the eyes gesture…but half nod…huh! But here again having gotten used to this response from numerous women to whom I have expressed my “feelings”, I went ahead and picked up the admission form.

And there I was going over the admission form and what baffled me the most was this innocuous column that read “Parents salary”. I mean…really…I never thought I would be put in a predicament where I am forced to flaunt an embarrassing number in my life. I think there should be a protocol…two numbers that you should never ask one in a public forum – the salary and then the waist size. So, I went ahead put in this “number” and added a footnote – “salary hike expected very soon”. The footnote of course was put in with an honest effort to “better” the chances of an “admit”.

But really…a salary figure for an LKG admission! Boss…if you are reading this, please please …give me a good rating this year end. I think…it is just a matter of time before schools go like…am sorry, you have been an under performer this entire year and I am afraid I can’t give a nursery admission to your kid!

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WTF - Rated (U/A)

Have spent hours on my couch eating potato chips, so many after noons reading forwarded emails about tweety birds and a large part of my life thinking about girls, but nothing, just nothing makes me feel as much guilt about wasting time, the way it does when I wait for the traffic signal to turn green. So here I was patiently waiting for the red to fade into a green. And suddenly, there is this guy in a cycle who squeezes in-between my car and the median, in the process disturbs my rear view mirror and nonchalantly moves ahead. It was Friday…I was in a good mood…so I go like…hey mister…what are you doing. Almost immediately this guys goes like…”get lost Ass%^*@”. Experience along with some sophisticated schooling has taught me that whenever am put in an adversity like this where my very character is getting tarnished, I retort with some thing even stronger. So, I immediately blurted out…”F*$%# off Ass%^, with my middle finger gesture complimenting the said statement. There was contentment even as I said that…ya…the state of bliss the learned call “nirvana”.

The signal turns green and having won the battle I drive ahead and took a quick peek at my rear view mirror…and what do I see…there is this guy in all rage following me at lightening speed. And here is when I notice…this guy is BIG…six foot 4 inches…that’s not all…he is 6”4 on all directions. Have you ever noticed this sign in mirrors that read “objects in mirrors are closer than they appear”. I didn’t either, till this incident. This Godzilla was growing in size and I was sure it was just a matter of time before he made minced meat outta me. The benefit of a superior car engine and a clear road helped me narrowly escape the clutches of this violently enraged man. Its only after I reached some distance of safety did it occur to me…isn’t it amazing that a small hand motion of mine instills so much rage in an otherwise passive person. I mean… think about it…all I said was “fuck“…isn’t that what is running in 90% of guy’s minds all the time…well ya 99% of the guys…or maybe all of us. So then, why get angry? Who came up with this really? This small movement of the middle finger...If only getting laid is as simple as that. We gotta change this people. This middle fingers action ain’t working. No idea why this was meant to be derogatory in the first place. Instead lets show him the bum as a symbol of insult. Think about it…you are driving, you take the pain of slowly getting up even as you maneuver the car and then show him the bum. Boy! That can be quite insulting. Imagine people going like…gosh! This is humiliating, he showed him the bum. Well…that’s some thing!!!

We are like this only

Could have written like a Wordsworth
had the English teacher not been a distraction

Could have left behind a Tom Cruise
had I pumped in a little more iron

Could have strummed like a Hendrix
had I attended my classes a little longer

Could have led like the Mahatma
had personal interests not come in my way

Could have acted like a super star
had my last name been "Khan"

But sadly am none..and jus'
leaving behind someone that
tried it all but got no where;
Cheers to all those under achievers
who create the over achievers

My tryst with...

She was jus inches away from a really personal part of my anatomy. She was looking straight into my eyes and I was looking into hers. I had no idea what she was thinking…but for me this is the first time being in a situation like this. I have read about it, heard about it and even seen it a couple of times; but never been a part of it until today. She was breathing hard. Is this really going to happen, I thought to myself? Expected this moment since the time I moved in as her neighbor…but didn’t expect it to happen this soon. Should I stay still or move away? The latter was hardly an option. There I was standing helplessly with two grocery bags on both my hands with my neighbor’s dog sniffing all over me. And this lady nonchalantly walks towards me…and says with a smile…don’t worry she wont bite. Then why the F*$% do you have a dog. I almost blurted it out, but abreast of the compromising position I was in, I stayed quiet.

All you dog owners…if you are listening…please leash your dogs. Contrary to what you may think, they actually bite. They have been designed to bite…then why wont they. I really have nothing against dogs… if at a distance. In fact I love them…I think about them many a times in my life. Every time my boss goes like…this work is horrible, want this completed by eod…I think to myself…every “dog” has its day. This is not all…whenever I do a self-appraisal of my life, I go like…ya right! It’s a dog’s life.

Relationship

I cajoled you,

I pampered you,

Fed you with gallons of time,

You promised you would be mine,

You made me smile,

You made me laugh,

Now you make me cry,

Until I die,

I wonder why,

And I wonder why?

How to be good in exactly twenty-one days

The usual flight delay and I promptly walked into a bookstore. Was browsing through the “best seller” section and this little book caught my attention…”To be good, think good”. Ya right! This is where I missed the trick; now all I have to do is to simply think good. I mean…what’s with these self-help books. Which moron reads them? Imagine a loser carrying this book to a party…“how to win friends easily”. So, there he is getting introduced to someone and he goes like…jus’ a min, let me refer to my friendship manual, he takes a peek…Chapter 3 “Establish rapport – maintain eye contact whilst reinforcing image of strength and warmth”.

I have seen the guys that buy these books…they all look so annoyed, frustrated and mighty pissed in life. There is very little effect that these books have on them. Or maybe, a book like “how to be cunning, manipulative and evil” might work! Ya, am gonna write this book and have the publisher get the lines imprinted “New York bestseller”. I don’t think it is so hard a task to be NY bestseller. Almost every book has this line! I think this will work. Being bad is lot easier than being “good”. I remember reading some where…all these good doers are really embarrassed about their deeds…that’s why you see Superman, Spiderman and Batman…all wearing masks. They don’t want people to know who they are. “Superman, yah thanks for saving my life, but did you have to come through my wall” I mean…the front door is open. They’ve got a security deposit. Now what am I supposed to do.

The handshake eticurt

HELLO SIR! THIS IS REALLY NOT ACCEPTABLE. Definitely not some thing that I wanted to hear when I was in the mid of hmm err nature’s call. Have always been doing it this way the last two decades…I muttered to myself even as I looked around to see who is policing me during this really personal moment of mine. I found the Sherlock… there he was holding on to a nokia 1350 with his left hand even as he was continuing to pee. And he went on…not acceptable sir; you have to make the payment by end of this month. Some relief I must say, although found it hard to digest the trauma and shock I was made to undergo. Even as I was mulling over this, I noticed this guy keenly engrossed in his conversations and walking out of the rest room. And hey… jus a min…shouldn’t you not be washing your hands?

After about 10 minutes time I step into my boss’ room and whom do I see. The same old pee boy! And my boss goes like…. Hi RG… meet our new client Mr. Loganathan; and he promptly extends his cordial hand. I mean who the hell really “invented” this handshake formality. Why on earth should some one share the excitement of meeting people by vigorously shaking a person’s hand? Cant a simple nod work, or even our very own Indian way of a raised eyebrow, or even a Japanese head bow. You see… all these have been carefully designed to avoid any physical contact. Our intellectually supreme ancestors have already envisaged the new age man to have talking devices that take away even his basic needs like washing of hands after peeing. Am really glad to meet you Mr. Loganathan, but do we really have to shake hands… I thought to myself. With my boss refereeing the “event” I had no option but to reluctantly extend my hand although with a discomforted look even as I muttered…pleasure to meet you sir! Mr. Loganathan ended proceedings by carefully transferring all his germs! So much so for my hour long shower with lifebuoy the germ killer!!!

There is a new attire in town!

Its been almost a year since I blogged. Thanks to eclipsed thoughts for getting me back into this routine.

This is like a sequel to my earlier article "Fashion hits a new low". Had written about this to my "apartment egroup" after observing a certain fashion statement. Some of you might even be able to relate to this....Am pasting the mail I had sent to my egroup

The webster defines "towel" as some thing used for drying one's body after bathing and showering. The definition fails to extend its purpose as an "acceptable" attire in a society of men, women and children. I guess by now, most of you might have guessed where I am heading to, for those that dont.....this is about men walking around apartment campus in their towels. I personally find it very amusing to see men walk all around the campus and also in the elevators in their towels. Now with dogs also "allowed" in the elevator, not sure if it is so safe a thing to do. I am really not writing this to initiate another fight or debate; in fact some of the "towel wearers" are my good friends; but I am jus not sure if it is an acceptable thing to do. End of it, it is your call, am fine as long as you do not pull off a "Ranbir Kapoor" as in Sawariyaa. Those that have gotten offended by my selfish insensitive remark on men walking around in their bathing towels can send their abuse mails to my personal id. However I can assure you that I wont relatiate, nor will I start clicking pictures and posting it in the egroup. Swadesh is your birth, and so is walking around in towels. This was jus a thought...

Fashin hits a new low!

Been a while since I blogged. Been busy doing a lot of frivolous things in life. And one such was accompanying a dear one for shopping. Was in this mall last week, and as usual I was waiting out side while my pretty companion was busy trying out the million clothes the shops have to offer. As I was gazing around I noticed this shop where they take a picture of you and put it in your T-shirt. Ya, Ladies & Gentlemen, we have lost all forms of creativity; stripes, horizontal ones, vertical ones, squares, flowers, plain ones, we have tried it all and human brain has exhausted all forms of creativity and now all you have to do is put your face in your T-shirt. Now which sicko would wanna put his face in his T-shirt. People! I know you cannot have enough of me, so jus look down, I am here again!

I don’t know! This fashion thing I tell you..has just hit a new low. You know eventually there might just not be any fashion at all. I have seen these new age movies; the aliens who are far superior than us are moving around in a V shaped jumper suit and visiting other planets. Jus a matter of time, we will soon be there. Dump your capris, gowns, dresses and jackets, we all are gonna be wearing the same thing. Just get into your grey jumper suits..we are gonna visit other planets.

Weird...Weirder...Weirdest

Got tagged by passerby55 and Aditi..here is my response...

In the eyes of my co-workers: This guy has to comb his hair some time; with hair falling all over his fore head its difficult to take him seriously in any meeting. Can any one direct him to the nearest hairdresser.

In the eyes of my teacher: We definitely need a cryptologist to decipher this handwriting. How on earth can some one write in a way where every letter in a word is oriented towards a different direction.

In the eyes of my friends: It’s been over two years since he returned from the US. Why the hell does he still have his “American accent”. Common! you don’t have to continue to roll your “R”s.

In the eyes of my mom: Being a part of this tam bram community how can this kid still not like curd rice. That’s beyond comprehension!

In the eyes of some one special: A mood which fluctuates so much that could put a pendulum to shame. Would take a life long to predict what’s in his mind.

In the eyes of my party friends: This guy’s dance is simply not replicable. Dances like “Chandler” in friends. If at all there is a worst dancer award, we got a clear winner.

and I tag ....
contraddict, Eclipsed Thoughts and Ayshu

Fasten your seat belts…this is your captain speaking

Never really enjoyed traveling by flights. Ya, I do enjoy the privileges of a frequent flyer and often getting the honor of an upgrade to a business class, where I think the only difference is that you are greeted with a bigger smile and once every five minutes the airhostess stops by to find out if all is well; like I am gonna start wailing if left alone for more than five mins.

Every thing in air travel is little, tiny and pretentious. You wake up at the wee hours and rush to the airport only to hear a lady apologize for a “little” delay and the nice thing is she always “appreciates” our co-operation. At least in my case, the jet airways delays are measured in minutes, right in the next counter I hear Air Deccan announce the delay in hours. Once you enter you have to squeeze your way through the teeny-weeny bit of space available in the cabin. And, gosh! You got a window seat and there is a fairly “healthy” gentleman occupying the aisle and little bit of the middle as well. You look at him with total guilt and he reluctantly gets up with a disgusted face. Of course, for a moment the pretty looking airhostess does a Bangalore traffic cop regulating people up and down so that you and the husky samaritan can settle down.

After all the hustle-bustle, you hear someone with a made-up gruff voice go like “Good morning this is your captain speaking”. Don’t you get the feeling that the very first task of plane flying is to “learn” to speak husky” and then come up with innovative excuses. Our man goes like, “We are very sorry for the “slight” delay which was caused by the late arrival of the incoming air craft. Ya right! They never tell you why that was late. It’s some kind of a vicious circle, seems like the very first flight by the Wright brothers got delayed and then on folks, it has resulted in the delay of subsequent flights.

Last week almost immediately after take off our captain cautioned us of some unexpected turbulence and advised us to keep the seat belts fastened. It was like thirty mins after take off and we continued to have the belts tightly fastened. With all the liquid diet they feed us with you know how it is and the compelling desire to use the rest room. There was this Chinese gentleman who could “hold” it no more, and walked up almost till the end, until an irritated voice read, “gentleman please fasten your seat belts” and sent this man back to where he belonged. I could see the misery in his face; for Christ’s sake, this man could die of a bladder burst; losing balance due to turbulence is least of his worries. Moreover, when you guys walk around juggling those cans of juices and colas, why can’t you “allow” some one in dire straits to hop in to the rest room.

And btw hostess, I value my sleep way more than your tiny pretentious food. So, if by chance I am in deep sleep, please don’t wake me up to try out your menu. Also, what’s this with you guys. Thousands of rupees spent on your tickets, why can’t you get some thing that is…did some say tasty. There is like a hajar “sagars” (small restaurants) in our city that make some delicious idlis and vadais; jus go grab a cart full from them.

Oh, there is some thing that I failed to mention during the boarding process. There is like a million reasons why I so value a world devoid of terrorist attacks. A significant one of that million would be the trauma one has to go undergo because of this. Blame it on my sexual orientation; it doesn’t make me comfortable at all, when I am publicly made to stand and have this guy feel me all over. I am not a metro sexual alright, but I do love to carry my hair gel and a small bottle of perfume. And, now this ban on any thing liquid...Ahh! Just a matter of time folks! We might soon not be allowed to pee in aircrafts, fearing a possible explosive triggered by a person’s pee.

After the “little” delay, the “little” patience expected from us passengers, the “tiny” pretentious food offered, the “little” wait in the landing queue… destination arrived! And Mumbai traffic took over. Amen!

Picture Perfect

You and I are like adjacant pieces in a jigsaw puzzle,
if kept seperate... one would never get the complete picture!

Rule # 1: There are no rules

“Israel had no $#&*in right to bomb Lebanon on the pretext of counter attacking terrorists…” came the strong response from one of my close friends who seemed deeply affected by the recent turn of events. The next 20 minutes he took me through the history of Israeli occupation of Lebanon, the creation of Hezbollah and the dubious stance of the US and UN. His contention was
- Israel has evil intentions of occupying Lebanon
- How can Israel kill civilians in retaliation to its soldiers getting kidnapped?
- UN is a separate body and cant get dictated by the US
And he had a lot more; let me spare you of the rigmarole.

As I pondered over what he said…Its like this huge board game that we are playing; GOD created this for man, put in all his efforts to make it complicated and interesting, enabled the luxury of having infinite number of participants, no age restrictions, no restrictions on gender, color, religion and many more such interesting parameters. But, the problem is, he forgot to give us that small booklet that contains the rules of the game. And, this probably caused every member, every country, every government, every organization, and every supposed terrorist outfit to come out with their version of the rules. Not surprisingly each one has a different version completely contradicting the other versions. Its in this “contradiction” arises arguments, hatreds, battles, wars and eventually loss of lives.

Follow the principles of Geetha advises my dad on a regular basis. “The Geetha”, authored by our very own “lord” Krishna who pulled every trick in his sleeve to win the battle against the Kauravas. Things weren’t greatly different in the other avatar either. The righteous “Rama” stood behind a tree to attack an unfortunate Vali from behind; an act very much against the “rules” of a war. The mighty nation US that promptly chided India (the step mother that she is) for testing out nuclear weapons seemed quite proud of her achievement in wiping out the Japanese towns of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I am given to believe, that was the “only” way to end the war. It’s like different versions of rules that we come up with, and each updating the earlier written ones. Possibly like Windows versions. Each version has very little semblance to the earlier one; while the whole world uses them, it still crashes even under normal circumstances. In my IT city Bangalore, people have taken this philosophy to road traffic as well. I remember when my good old friend from the US asked me which side of the road we drive in, the left or the right, with a sheepish grin I whispered…”the center”.

Hmmm maybe there ain’t any rules. It’s meant to be the way it is. This game where we are mere moving objects, with varied emotions, highs and lows, and here we are competing to “reach” what we believe is a “finish” line. No wonder, Al pacino (in Devil’s advocate) calls HIM a prankster; HE has rolled the die and is now watching us play. A game it is, with no rules. I still want to ask HIM, why don’t we have a choice…maybe I don’t want to play!

Incidental

You are you
I am I
You are not in this world to live upto my expectations
I am not in this world to live upto your expectations
and if by chance we meet, that would be great!

We

We were so much in love. We made sacrifices...
I sacrificed myself, while she sacrificed me!

"Loo"se Control

I almost skipped a beat. The motor cyclist raced from the right most side of the road to the left in a jiffy with a thin air cushion between his rear and my car bumper. I mouthed every bit of vocabulary my college life has taught me. As I relaxed, I looked into the rear view mirror and much to my amazement, this guy drove like a maniac only to park his vehicle and empty his bladder along the road side wall.

India has taken “Democracy” to a whole new level. It’s not unusual to see an array of people against a shoddy looking wall having a two min tête-à-tête along side a dog keenly involved in the same activity. As a Good Samaritan I have tried my bit to discourage this disgusting practice. Once braked right beside a guy in his act and honked loud; tried focusing my car’s high beam on another and there were occasions when I tried staring continuously, although this once resulted in an embarrassing “invitation”.

Even the corporation came out with some innovative ways. Top on my list is this sign board that reads “Do not urinate on walls, only dogs urinate on walls”. Still not in the Webster, but an alternative way to communicate this is “Do not create nuisance”. The smarter ones came up with having pictures of Gods and Goddesses; sadly this didn’t quite deter the atheists and non-Hindus. In fact this is so rampant that when my five year old nephew was sketching a landscape, had the sun shining bright, some trees, lanes clogged with traffic and had about five-six men facing a wall. When asked why….”that also don’t know..going chuchu of course” came the prompt reply. We got a crisis here man! Sooner or later we are all going to get “pee”ved!

Is happiness over rated?

There are like a million quotes marketing for this frivolous human emotion called happiness. “Smile”…a curve that can set a lot of things straight. Fewer muscles are required for a smile than for a frown. Ya right! like we need more excuses to avoid exercise.

Sadness or grief is like an orphaned child, terribly under rated. To me sadness is like a weekend. You need this after a mundane long week. It gets you in touch with his cousins…anger, hatred, jealously, selfishness. Imagine a world without all of these, Duryodhana would have been more than happy to part his share with the pandavas, Shakuni need not have rolled the die the way he did, Hitler might have established caring centers for the jews and the Indian bowers would be more than satisfied bowling full tosses and half volleys to the Paki batsmen (some might argue that they still do).

On a serious note, a tear shed can bring a bonding that no other emotion can. Sadness is an eye opener to lot other otherwise innocuous things. A person enjoying unadulterated, uninterrupted happiness can infact go completely oblivious to various other facets in life.

Wish writers across the world would read this blog and hence forth have fairy tales that end…and they lived sadly ever after.

What woman want!

Some of you might infer my age to be in the late forties, while same might blame it on my blissful ignorance, but fact remains that only recently was I introduced to this thingie called orkut. And Boy! its a bizare world out there. Post a smart pic (need not necessarily be you), put some witty remarks, browse through to a cute gal's page, write a "scrap" and bingo you get to have coffee with her. Ya right! you might think! Was amazing to read some of the "pick-up" lines used by guys.

The fairly naive ones have the standard "Hi, would like to be your friend, I love making friends". I am sure the success rate on this one would be as good as allowing a chimp to randomly punch keys on a key board and expect a line out of Shakespeare’s.

The smarter ones (at least they believe so) graduate to the next level. A friend of mine received this one from a budding Wordsworth who tried his luck with some poetry. How about this for a pick up line:

I wouldn't know you on the street,
and doesn't that seem strange?
You hold a place within my life,unusual and unique;
We share ideals and special dreams,
and still, we do not speak.
I picture what I think you are,
perhaps you picture me.
An intriguing game for both of us
for someone we can't see.
So for this friendship we possess,
we owe this mail a debt,
Perhaps the charm lies in the fact
that we have never met.
wats happenin buddy..............juz happened to see ur profile and
thought we wud make gud pals.am rohit here from the south and love
making
frnds,music,dance,travel and meet frnds,beaches long drives are a few
hobbies and a part time dj too.
plz feel free to visit my profile and u feel am worth makin frnds do
mail
me at xxxxxx@yahoo.com or at 09xxxxxxxxx

I am sure gals that read these wonder if these guys are plain stupid or just suffer from an over dose of testosterone. Whatever it is..fact remains that "we" have been trying for ages to get the gal's attention and been failing miserably. We have tried it all...the traditional whistle, a sine wave whistle with a high note and a low note, the innocent smirk, honking when behind the wheels, circles with a cigarette smoke and quite recently graduated to a fancy sky-writer. Nothing has worked! Is there any thing left untested yet effective? I tell you..we have run out of ideas!