Made in Photoshop.Someone keep the city safe.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Exit Wound and Microscopes
Imagery springs forth from a disturbed mind:
Made in Photoshop.
Someone keep the city safe.
Made in Photoshop.Someone keep the city safe.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Interview Horror Stories
Some people are geniuses. Here is a story of one.
His name was Broca (Name changed to protect identity). Broca was sitting for summer placements. He enters his interview and Mr. Interviewer kindly asks him to sit before asking, "So tell me something about the current Indian economy."
Broca says, "Sure. Could I have a minute to think please?".
Now Broca was a genius. He had spent the last night researching on things like the Barrack Obama, India-China, the company's director's name and such stuffs. He was well prepared for this interview. The whole of the night. Extremely well prepared.
He was also sleepy.
So, in his minute of soltitude, he drifts off to sleep sitting in the interviewee's chair - the kind of "I must stay awake. But damn I'm soo sleepy" kind of drifty sleep that we all experience in a class where time seemingly stands still. A minute later the interviewer wakes him and asks if he wants water.
Yes, this is the story of Broca the Genius. It is a true story. He really fell asleep during an interview!
His name was Broca (Name changed to protect identity). Broca was sitting for summer placements. He enters his interview and Mr. Interviewer kindly asks him to sit before asking, "So tell me something about the current Indian economy."
Broca says, "Sure. Could I have a minute to think please?".
Now Broca was a genius. He had spent the last night researching on things like the Barrack Obama, India-China, the company's director's name and such stuffs. He was well prepared for this interview. The whole of the night. Extremely well prepared.
He was also sleepy.
So, in his minute of soltitude, he drifts off to sleep sitting in the interviewee's chair - the kind of "I must stay awake. But damn I'm soo sleepy" kind of drifty sleep that we all experience in a class where time seemingly stands still. A minute later the interviewer wakes him and asks if he wants water.
Yes, this is the story of Broca the Genius. It is a true story. He really fell asleep during an interview!
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Stray Cat Strut
Today I tripped and fell down stairs and managed not to break any bones. I did twist my left ankle rather badly though. But this post isin't about that.
No. This is instead about Cats.
I'll be the first to admit that in all my years, I haven't associated with them, or got to know them, or thrown them a bone or anything. But lately, cats seem to have been thrust into my life like things that are thrusted into lives without being wanted.
Just the other day, I came back from class, all tired and weary. I open my door and what do I see? A cute orangey cat is plonked right in the middle of my room, staring at me with it's bright green eyes - pretending as if the room is her Kingdom and my books are her subjects. "Off with his head!" she thinks maybe?
"Wierd!", I think. "Damn, confounded! He's back!", she thinks.
And runs straight out of the open door.
Now this is a great mystery to me. How in the world did it get in there? Did it enter in the morning before I left for class? Or is this simply a minifestation of Schrödinger's Uncertainty Principle? But anyhow, I moved on to more profound thoughts, like "What's for lunch?" and soon the Cat-incident was forgotten.
Not yet beaten, the cute cat has yet another brush-in with me.
It was a dark and stormy night. No it wasn't. Yes it was. No, let me tell the story. Damn inner concience.
I was sleeping. I must've been 6 AM in the morning when I heard a thud. Slowly I raise my head and I see a cat scrambling up my bookshelf! There happens to be a window above my room door and she had somehow managed to get up there an jump into my room!
But silly cat.. realizes I'm inside and must now scramble out. She jumps onto my desk, scrambles up my bookshelf, drops all my cards (yes some friends did send me cards on my birthday. Shame on you, all those who didn't.), and jumps out the window again to land on the other side with yet another thud.
Pretty damn cool.
And that brings me to the end of my rant, and to the point which I might as well have just stated instead of rambling on. And that point is this: I wish I could land on my feet like a cat instead of twisting it and having to hop around on one foot like a (slightly defective) rabbit.
No. This is instead about Cats.
I'll be the first to admit that in all my years, I haven't associated with them, or got to know them, or thrown them a bone or anything. But lately, cats seem to have been thrust into my life like things that are thrusted into lives without being wanted.
Just the other day, I came back from class, all tired and weary. I open my door and what do I see? A cute orangey cat is plonked right in the middle of my room, staring at me with it's bright green eyes - pretending as if the room is her Kingdom and my books are her subjects. "Off with his head!" she thinks maybe?
"Wierd!", I think. "Damn, confounded! He's back!", she thinks.
And runs straight out of the open door.
Now this is a great mystery to me. How in the world did it get in there? Did it enter in the morning before I left for class? Or is this simply a minifestation of Schrödinger's Uncertainty Principle? But anyhow, I moved on to more profound thoughts, like "What's for lunch?" and soon the Cat-incident was forgotten.
Not yet beaten, the cute cat has yet another brush-in with me.
I was sleeping. I must've been 6 AM in the morning when I heard a thud. Slowly I raise my head and I see a cat scrambling up my bookshelf! There happens to be a window above my room door and she had somehow managed to get up there an jump into my room!
But silly cat.. realizes I'm inside and must now scramble out. She jumps onto my desk, scrambles up my bookshelf, drops all my cards (yes some friends did send me cards on my birthday. Shame on you, all those who didn't.), and jumps out the window again to land on the other side with yet another thud.
Pretty damn cool.
And that brings me to the end of my rant, and to the point which I might as well have just stated instead of rambling on. And that point is this: I wish I could land on my feet like a cat instead of twisting it and having to hop around on one foot like a (slightly defective) rabbit.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Llama's Carpet
You spiked my armBut you missed the vein
Now its all gone
But the scars remain
~ Mark Knopfler
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Mirror Mirror
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Who's the Darkest of Them All?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Shall I leave my Friends alone
Hidden in a Twilight Hall?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Shall we dare the Dragon?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Gone is the Wisdom of a Thousand Years
How shall We leave the Lost Road?
... I'm lost in a R. R.'s fantasy world of wars and wolfs. Time to spread your little wings and fly away. Fly away, far away!
Who's the Darkest of Them All?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Shall I leave my Friends alone
Hidden in a Twilight Hall?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Shall we dare the Dragon?
Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Gone is the Wisdom of a Thousand Years
How shall We leave the Lost Road?
Insanity said Coldly:
Be aware the Storm gets closer.
And the Story Ends.
Be aware the Storm gets closer.
And the Story Ends.
... I'm lost in a R. R.'s fantasy world of wars and wolfs. Time to spread your little wings and fly away. Fly away, far away!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Tiny Rebel Moments
Today I submitted my exam paper to Prof. Cauchy, the famous mathematician.
No, he doesn't really teach us - he's French. He is also dead.
The punchline being ofcourse that in the exam answer sheet, where it said "Name of Professor" instead of writing Prof. Koshy, a Mallu marketeer (and a God-level prof), I wrote in big, bold letters, "Prof. Cauchy".
Yesterday, our paper was to "Prof. M.S. Sriram". Feeling adventerous, I swished my pen twice, deftly converted the S's to dollars and wrote "Prof. M.$. $riram" instead. It fits perfectly - he teaches us Accounting! :-D
Back in college I was a rebel. I grew my hair and I jumped out of classrooms via the windows. I scandalized teachers and back in IIT I was a "rebel" too - I took pride in *zero* studies and I generally pretended to admire Ernesto Che Guevara and I also sneaked my car (with Cake music (Frequent car-ers will know what I mean)) out late at night when my parents were asleep.
But no more. In this new college of mine, jumping out of windows is a long way off - decorum demands that I don't even sneeze the wrong way. That's why there's such joy in the little things - a word here, a pun there.
Reports lined with Douglassey phrases and a paragraph in the middle written in Shakespearean English. Vandalism of Profs names in exams. Just little things. But they mark my existence more than all the 23-page assignments that I write.
No, he doesn't really teach us - he's French. He is also dead.
The punchline being ofcourse that in the exam answer sheet, where it said "Name of Professor" instead of writing Prof. Koshy, a Mallu marketeer (and a God-level prof), I wrote in big, bold letters, "Prof. Cauchy".
Yesterday, our paper was to "Prof. M.S. Sriram". Feeling adventerous, I swished my pen twice, deftly converted the S's to dollars and wrote "Prof. M.$. $riram" instead. It fits perfectly - he teaches us Accounting! :-D
Back in college I was a rebel. I grew my hair and I jumped out of classrooms via the windows. I scandalized teachers and back in IIT I was a "rebel" too - I took pride in *zero* studies and I generally pretended to admire Ernesto Che Guevara and I also sneaked my car (with Cake music (Frequent car-ers will know what I mean)) out late at night when my parents were asleep.
But no more. In this new college of mine, jumping out of windows is a long way off - decorum demands that I don't even sneeze the wrong way. That's why there's such joy in the little things - a word here, a pun there.
Reports lined with Douglassey phrases and a paragraph in the middle written in Shakespearean English. Vandalism of Profs names in exams. Just little things. But they mark my existence more than all the 23-page assignments that I write.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Today
Today is Friday. It started at a second past midnight.
At a second to midnight, I was on Page 4. At a second past midnight I was still on Page 4. Two hours past midnight and I had moved on to Page 5.
The report didn't seem never-ending. Worse: It seemed never-progressing. Statistical analysis, Function Words, Neural Networks and Madhavan's demented-man laugh floated in and out my conciousness. Excel 2007 focused and blurred as I rubbed my weary eyes.
Four hours past midnight and I fall asleep. Drop asleep would be more accurate. Precisely on the Delete key.
Six hours past midnight. I discover my folly. If it weren't for the miracle of Command-Z, I'd have been strung and quartered by my group already.
Eight and a half hours past midnight. I run to class. There is a surprise marketing quiz. Ouch that hurts.
Twelve hours past midnight. Twelve hours to midnight. I skip class and continue writing the report.
Ten hours to midnight. Page Nineteen. She calls and says that there's a surprise Financial Markets quiz. The light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way.
Eight hours to midnight. The report has now grown to 23 pages. Let It Be, Let It Be, Let It Be Let It Be. If there must be an answer, Let It Be. ... And it's off with the Report's Head. SHIT. What SHIT? Well you've heard of JIT? Just In Time. This is all SomeHow In Time.
Seven hours to midnight. My group is proud of me. They treat me to my first meal of the day. Thanks guys.
Six hours to midnight. Mahindra War Room Presentation. Quite spiffy actually.
Three hours to midnight. I run out of dinner leaving a poor soul stranded. Sorry. I had to attend the Mathematical Finance Lecture.
One hour to midnight. The first mail check of the day. The first free minute of the week. The first blog post of the month.
Two minutes to midnight. I like that song.
One second to midnight. It's Saturday now. Time to prepare for today's classes.
At a second to midnight, I was on Page 4. At a second past midnight I was still on Page 4. Two hours past midnight and I had moved on to Page 5.
The report didn't seem never-ending. Worse: It seemed never-progressing. Statistical analysis, Function Words, Neural Networks and Madhavan's demented-man laugh floated in and out my conciousness. Excel 2007 focused and blurred as I rubbed my weary eyes.
Four hours past midnight and I fall asleep. Drop asleep would be more accurate. Precisely on the Delete key.
Six hours past midnight. I discover my folly. If it weren't for the miracle of Command-Z, I'd have been strung and quartered by my group already.
Eight and a half hours past midnight. I run to class. There is a surprise marketing quiz. Ouch that hurts.
Twelve hours past midnight. Twelve hours to midnight. I skip class and continue writing the report.
Ten hours to midnight. Page Nineteen. She calls and says that there's a surprise Financial Markets quiz. The light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way.
Eight hours to midnight. The report has now grown to 23 pages. Let It Be, Let It Be, Let It Be Let It Be. If there must be an answer, Let It Be. ... And it's off with the Report's Head. SHIT. What SHIT? Well you've heard of JIT? Just In Time. This is all SomeHow In Time.
Seven hours to midnight. My group is proud of me. They treat me to my first meal of the day. Thanks guys.
Six hours to midnight. Mahindra War Room Presentation. Quite spiffy actually.
Three hours to midnight. I run out of dinner leaving a poor soul stranded. Sorry. I had to attend the Mathematical Finance Lecture.
One hour to midnight. The first mail check of the day. The first free minute of the week. The first blog post of the month.
Two minutes to midnight. I like that song.
One second to midnight. It's Saturday now. Time to prepare for today's classes.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Contri Dinner
Have you ever heard of "going dutch"? It's when everyone pays for their own share of dinner as opposed to the traditional "man pays" approach. That ofcourse, is the traditional meaning of "going dutch". In our reference frames, it has more to do with Tetrahydrocannabinol.
Anyhow, you see I've always harboured plans of complete and total world domination. I know "complete and total" is a little redundant, but complete world domination just isin't enough for the likes of me. To this end, I have cultivated a friends-circle of like minded Evil villians for two reasons: One, to learn of new and improved techniques of evilness and two, so I know who all to backstab when I *finally* do take over the world.
Once, in a brilliant spurt of enthu, rarely observed in sloths, Godwani (friend from aforementioned evil circle) contemplated that we should have a blog where we can discuss our plans of world domination, and also coffee. Hence, Contri Dinner was born. With 4 posts in 4 years, this was clearly the highest priority in our lives. Rest assured, the blog lay dormant, like a mango-seed in a desert, waiting for the day that someone has pity on it andputs it out of its misery eats it (all puns intended).
But now that we're in Ahmedabad at the same time, with no option but to mug away to glory, we've decided (actually, I've decided and I'll beat 'gid with a stick till he agrees) to bring the blog back to life. Ofcourse, the blog has come to life before. 3 times to be precise. Lets hope that this time it doesn't lapse back into one of those unconcious thingies, for I would be too embarassed by this and I might have to climb into a little black corner of the web and refuse to ever come out.
Anyhow, have a read. The first post is http://contridinner.blogspot.com/2006/03/food-or-something-like-that.html and the latest one can be found at http://contridinner.blogspot.com/. Add it to your Google Readers, or whatever you use. And do post comments too. We'll be back with enough random bullshit in the coming days.
Any donations towards our effors of total and complete world domination are highly appreciated.
Anyhow, you see I've always harboured plans of complete and total world domination. I know "complete and total" is a little redundant, but complete world domination just isin't enough for the likes of me. To this end, I have cultivated a friends-circle of like minded Evil villians for two reasons: One, to learn of new and improved techniques of evilness and two, so I know who all to backstab when I *finally* do take over the world.
Once, in a brilliant spurt of enthu, rarely observed in sloths, Godwani (friend from aforementioned evil circle) contemplated that we should have a blog where we can discuss our plans of world domination, and also coffee. Hence, Contri Dinner was born. With 4 posts in 4 years, this was clearly the highest priority in our lives. Rest assured, the blog lay dormant, like a mango-seed in a desert, waiting for the day that someone has pity on it and
But now that we're in Ahmedabad at the same time, with no option but to mug away to glory, we've decided (actually, I've decided and I'll beat 'gid with a stick till he agrees) to bring the blog back to life. Ofcourse, the blog has come to life before. 3 times to be precise. Lets hope that this time it doesn't lapse back into one of those unconcious thingies, for I would be too embarassed by this and I might have to climb into a little black corner of the web and refuse to ever come out.
Anyhow, have a read. The first post is http://contridinner.blogspot.com/2006/03/food-or-something-like-that.html and the latest one can be found at http://contridinner.blogspot.com/. Add it to your Google Readers, or whatever you use. And do post comments too. We'll be back with enough random bullshit in the coming days.
Any donations towards our effors of total and complete world domination are highly appreciated.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Kung Fubu Panda
(by KP and Jose)
The rotund warrior settled into his chair with the silky smooth precision of a crab, his substantial behind settling into the soft padding material displacing it so that it snuck up the nether-region between the cheeks and there it stayed. Stayed atleast, till he shifted for more comfort.
Few dared approach him lest they be blinded by the rays os SHEER OSSOMNESS that emanated so freely from him.
The Rotund Warrior then took a bite from his sandwich , picked up the phone and used his fearsome voice
to sell stuff.
Dreamsatwork presents: Kung-Fubu Panda as he should have been :)
(Statutory Warning: Bad Photoshopping Ahead - proceed at your own risk:)
The rotund warrior settled into his chair with the silky smooth precision of a crab, his substantial behind settling into the soft padding material displacing it so that it snuck up the nether-region between the cheeks and there it stayed. Stayed atleast, till he shifted for more comfort.
Few dared approach him lest they be blinded by the rays os SHEER OSSOMNESS that emanated so freely from him.
The Rotund Warrior then took a bite from his sandwich , picked up the phone and used his fearsome voice
to sell stuff.
Dreamsatwork presents: Kung-Fubu Panda as he should have been :)
(Statutory Warning: Bad Photoshopping Ahead - proceed at your own risk:)
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