The Mouse

Can you remember the last time you read a limerick on this blog? Me neither!

And that’s enough excuse to make you all suffer one more time! Muahahahaha!

Once upon a time, on an island with a lighthouse
Lived a teeny weeny mouse, in a little mouse house.
He slipped on a pea,
And fell in the sea!
Moral? Peas could be injurious, if you’re a teeny weeny mouse.

And so I continue to make Edward Lear toss and turn, 6 feet under.

You’ll still come back to my blog, won’t you? 🙂


That time of the week again! (You’re supposed to click the link – ya know, if you’re as d’uh as me on a Monday morning)

You think posting a new entry with a colorful picture (which says ‘Monday’ of all things!) would make it better? (If you’re interested, there’s a a thing about the image too: The first image I found on Google read ‘Happy Monday’. I found that too much to take, so I chose this instead. Say thanks.)



No way.

To make matters worse, I’m going to say this too: “A Monday by any other name would feel just as blue.”

Sounds familiar? Quit complaining. The guy who should complain is doing somersaults in his grave already.

Morning musings

1. I tried to squeeze face cream back into it’s tube this morning. I seriously don’t know what I was thinking.

2. There’s a wind chime (with Mickey Mouse, for cryin’ out loud) tied to the ceiling in my workplace. FYI, the room is completely air-conditioned, with only one main exit, one fire exit and no windows (or if you’re feeling exceptionally d’uh this morning, I mean to say that there is absolutely no wind or breeze or anything of that sort which would make the wind chime move). I want to be there when the chime chimes!

3. If you’re wondering how I tried to squeeze the face cream back in: stop it! We all have our moments. And if you know me personally, you’re forbidden to ask me about this.

4. I spent a good (no pun intended) 20 minutes this morning watching an exclusive interview with Jade Goody. Seems one of her aims is to scale the highest peak in the world and she couldn’t remember what it was called. She also thinks Mona Lisa was painted by a guy called Pistachio. O for the love of God!!!

5. If you read the above and don’t know who Jade Goody is, you’ve spent enough time in the jungle, catch the next flight back to civilization.

6. Shahrukh is awesome with the new KBC. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that he is not trying to be an Amitabh. Although, I did wish he was not one of those typical north indians who think all south indians live on idli sambhar. FYI, we’re also famous for Hyderabadi Biryani, Chettinad Chicken, Bisibela bath and Kappa-Meen Curry, not to mention the hazaar types of desserts and sweets. Just FYI.

7. Shahrukh cannot speak Telugu even if his life depended on it. Throwing together a couple of words ending with ‘ndu’ and ‘lu’ does not constitute Telugu. Even if you’re Shahrukh.

8. I tried answering one of those viewer questions – the SMS didn’t go through and I was too lazy to pick up the landline phone and try calling! So, that’s one genius who lost her chance to be on the show. Unfair life. And stupid phones!

9. I watched BBC for a while. Reminded me how news channels should be. What they do on the Indian News channels these days is nothing short of a circus.

10. Municipal elections are happening in Bombay, it seems. You would think the entire planet revolves around Bombay and not the sun. And only Bombay has a municipal corporation and only they have elections.

Blue Blah

I could write a book about Monday Blues. All I need is to pick up all my Monday-blog-posts and voila! I got myself my book! It’s got action, drama, poetry and violence (to my readers ofcourse, people have died reading about my blues). And the title would be something like ‘How she met a Monday, got kicked and became blue’ – sounds familiar? Blame the world wide web for all the awareness people have these days.

Right, so back to the main topic of the day – Monday. Today is actually not that bad. Yep, you can put your eyes back into their respective sockets, I just said that today – a Monday – is not that bad after all. Ask me why, ask me why! Beeeeecoz…**wink wink** it’s even worse. **drops down dead**

After so many blog posts, how can you ever believe me if I say a Monday is not so bad after all.


I’m not real.
Just a mirage, a shadow that disappears with the fading light.
All that you hear about me is inconsequential –
For he who truly knows me cannot speak about me.
The me that you see is irrelevant –
For I’m not what you see, I’m much more and a lot less than that.
Anything you know about me is obsolete –
I’m ever-changing, morphing into forms you cannot fathom.
I’m not where you search for me,
I’m not what you wish me to be.
Cry all you want, laugh while you can
Despair, lose your hopes and question your faith
I will still remain the enigma that I am
For better or for worse.

Dress Code

For all you folks who’s work demands a dress code (at least on some days of the week, if not all) –

ODE TO A DRESS CODE by Joanne Leary, Cornell University

This is the tale of Sir Samuel Smithers
An impeccable gent, from his feet to his withers;
Of regal deportment (though not really handsome),
In the matter of dressing, he looked a King’s Ransom.

They say, when a youth, he’d made a decision
To dress with unfailing geometric precision;
With finery fit for the poshest profession,
With elegance marked by Good Taste and Discretion.

His trousers, therefore, were items exalted;
And as for his socks — well, they couldn’t be faulted.
Gorgeous in gaiters and spotless in spats,
With wing-collared shirts, and silken cravats,
(Secured with a filigreed stick-pin of garnet)
Sir Samuel truly was Fashion incarnate.

I saw him attired thus — Where, you may ask?
The Ambassador’s Ball, or the Queen Mother’s Masque?
Charming the ladies with sallies of wit,
Or trying his talent with bridle and bit?
Flicking the dust from the sleeve of his coat,
While sipping champagne on a fifty-foot boat?

Alas, poor old Smithers was far from blue waters,
And light-years from dowager heiresses’ daughters.
Rather than hunting the foxes with gentry,
I saw him performing the duties of Sentry.
Specifically, checking the bookbags of patrons
And answering “Where is the Restroom?” of matrons.

Sir Samuel: “Library Page, Level III”
Was, in fact, what this fellow had turned out to be.
His duties included such dusty excesses
As gathering books from the deepest recesses:
From Reference, and Storage, and even Locked Press,
But never once did he abandon his dress.

I mused, while I watched him service a copier,
This man’s got a job that couldn’t be sloppier!
To remedy ravages wrought by the grime
Could hardly come cheaply in money or time…
I admired his stalwart and lofty ideals;
But wondered, where got he the money for meals?

Curiosity conquered my shyness at last,
And I ventured to ask, in a hush, as he passed:
“Sir Samuel, tarry a moment and tell,
How it comes that you dress so uncommonly well?
The dirt, sir… I mean, all that upkeep and such —
I’m sure you don’t earn… well, not terribly much.”

He stood there a moment, then spoke, sounding tired:
“I do this, you see, because it’s required.”
He paused again briefly, to let it sink in;
Then continued his tale, but now with a grin:
“But kid, let me tell you, there’s more to the action;
The truth is, by God, I get satisfaction!
The job’s rather meagre, as might be suspected;
But dressing this way, I find I’m respected!”

The dress code, you see, is a double-edged sword;
A burden, on one hand, and yet a reward.
Sir Samuel showed there are wheels within wheels.
(But still I can’t see how he comes by his meals.)

(Sourced from an e-mail bouncing off the world wide web)

Chocolate Chip Cake

Betty Crocker Double Chocolate Premium Muffin Mix.

Made with Hershey’s semi sweet chocolate chips.

Below that is this really yummy looking picture of a chocolate chip muffin surrounded by chocolate chips.

Note: This is not a food blog-entry. For the world of me, I do not know how to make chocolate chip cake from scratch.

That said, I can, however, make a chocolate chip cake from Betty Crocker’s Muffin Mix. Trust me, I don’t even need to see the directions. And I can make it using a microwave (when the directions on the pack ask us to use an oven) since I do not YET own an oven (my request for an electric oven is ‘Pending Approval’ from you-know-who).

Now, according to Betty Crocker, this is a Muffin mix. But then, the always-so-busy me does not have the patience to go shopping for muffin cups, ergo – this is now a cake mix. Poured the entire thing into a glass dish and chucked it into the microwave – voila, 30 minutes and yummy-smell-fills-house later, chocolate chip cake is ready to eat. Need I say that it tastes absolutely divine? It tastes absolutely divine.

And no one is welcome to my house till the cake is over. I’m not kidding.