Chp 385. Happy New Year!

So this is my last post for the year 2011, and I just realized, I’ve been quite a consistent blogger for the past 7 years. In fact, from 2005, I’ve posted 381 posts, average of which is 55, which is also the exact number of posts I’ve written this year!

I hope all of you had a memorable Christmas, and here’s wishing you all an absofreakinglutely awesome New Year. Cheers!

By the way, here’s a New Year present I’m sure all the ladies will love!

I’m a head massage addict. Whenever I get a haircut, I always finish it with a massage. Always. To me, getting a haircut without a head massage is like… eating shawarma without the pickle, or spending a Friday without listening to Rebecca Black’s “Friday” :D

Many haircutting saloons salons now have what I call the “Hand Vibrator”. It’s a piece of electrical contraption that easily fits in one’s hand. You just have to attach the other end to a power supply, turn it on and… oooohhhh…. ahhhhhhh….

After a good round of hand massage, the barber/hairstylist puts on this device and gives my head another round of awesome massage.





Women are soooo going to love thisssss! Guys, make sure you get one for your girl (or wife).

Just imagine you attaching this to your hand and switching on the power supply. Your whole hand becomes one powerful vibrating Weapon of Mass Seduction.

Everywhere you move your hand, she’ll squirm in sheer ecstasy. Even if she screams, “STOP!!!”, know that she merely means “Don’t stop… keep going… faster.. FASTER!!!”. Wave of endless satisfaction after satisfaction. Transport her to a place she’s never been before as you move your throbbing pulsating hand all over her… feet. Her tired and weary feet. That are badly in need of a massage. Because she’s tired from walking at every Mall and street-side shop, doing her Christmas and New Year shopping. Her feet really deserve that awesome massage.

Hope you weren’t thinking of anything else. I did say Weapon of Mass Seduction, not Weapon of Mass Reproduction.

So try to get your hands on this one. It will come in handy one day… lolz, sorry for the bad pun, but hey, it’s my last post this year! Happy New Year once again, y’all.

Chp 384. Of Christmas, Farms & Rehabilitation

It’s Christmas time again, the season of joy & happiness. Many of my friends at our site misual.com have already started the annual misualdotcommer charity. Money contributed by our visitors goes to various orphanages in Mizoram.

Maybe it’s because of this that I can’t help thinking about a very special place for me in Mizoram – a charity-run drugs & alcohol rehabilitation centre called Grace Home.

Three months ago, I took a one month vacation and went home to Mizoram. Apart from spending time with my dad, family and friends, dad told me to visit our “farm/ranch” at least once before I went back to Mumbai.

We have a peaceful sprawling farm outside the city, at a place called Neihbawih, Sihphir. It’s located on the top of a mountain, right adjacent to Mizoram Chief Minister Pu Lal Thanhawla’s farm.

Once upon a time when we were just kids, it was indeed a thriving farm. Mom and dad both worked hard running it, as they also had their respective official work to manage. At any point in time, we used to have at least more than 10 farmhands staying at the place. We had around 20-30 cows, 10-15 pigs, lots of hens/chickens, and grew all sorts of vegetables like squashes, cabbages, beans etc. Dad also built a very cozy farmhouse, making it the perfect weekend getaway.

I remember spending every weekend at the farm when I was little. Of course that meant no Nintendo video games (electricity was very bad at such an isolated place back then), but I really enjoyed spending time with the farmhands and playing with the animals.

On Saturdays, we would slaughter a pig from our pigsty, and then a butcher would come and chop it into pieces, which we would sell to merchants at the local Saturday morning meat market in Aizawl. They in turn would sell them to the common man at a little higher cost. Likewise, we did the same with our vegetables too. Hence, Saturday used to be a very busy day for our family back then. Busy but fun.

Milk was the only thing we sold every day and not just on Saturdays. Every day, our “milk van”, a Tata 407, would leave the city at 4 in the morning to collect milk from our farm. And I usually went with the driver. [I once saw a man who committed suicide hanging from a tree in Sihphir during one such morning routine. We (the driver and I) were the first to notice the corpse, as dawn was just about to break then, and we had to find the local YMA leader’s house to inform him about the “situation”. A very traumatic experience for me indeed.]

I don’t exactly remember how much milk we used to bring back every day then, but I think there were at least around 10 big milk cans involved. I even learnt how to milk the cows there. And on our way back to Aizawl, we would give a lift to some of the milkmaids who were also going to Aizawl to sell their milk. I was very young then, and shy. But I kinda understood everything. I’m sure our lucky driver definitely “got some” for regularly giving them free lifts almost every day (unless my mom or dad happened to travel with us) as many of them were really pretty, friendly and charming. Come to think of it, I really don’t remember our driver ever stopping the vehicle and giving a lift to a milkman! It was always the fair maidens! Lolz, the dirty rascal!

Once we reached home, the adults quickly did the measurements and divisions etc etc, and then our servants moved out to deliver the milk to our “customers” who stayed a bit farther away from our house, while I did the honors of delivering to those who stayed close by. I used to earn 1 rupee for every delivery I made! I really enjoyed those moments.

But then, like most dreams, our farm unfortunately hit rock-bottom. As the years passed, mom and dad were both busy with their official work and my sisters and I went home to Mizoram just once or twice a year (summer and winter vacations). It was also getting increasingly difficult to find trustworthy farmhands as there were many incidents of them siphoning off the profit into their own pockets, selling our vegetables and piglets behind our back.

Eventually, we got rid of all the cows, and for a long time, it was functioning with just two farmhands looking after 2-3 pigs, a few chickens and vegetables. The bare necessities indeed.

And then, the transformation.

Around 10 years ago, one of my cousins met dad with a suggestion – Since our family’s hardly doing anything with the farm, could dad rent the place to him (for free) to start a rehabilitation centre for drug-addicts and alcoholics?

Dad said yes. And Grace Home was born.

What is different about Grace Home is that, it’s not an NGO or official rehab centre run by the government or a private firm. It’s also not affiliated to any particular denomination. It is financed by different people from Khatla locality, people from different walks of life who got together and decided to do something good for the community.

Another distinguishing fact about this place is that it’s one of the few de-addiction centres where only people who volunteer are allowed to stay. Unlike many other de-addiction centres, you cannot forcefully put somebody there for “treatment”. It has to be a decision made by the addict himself. And yes, only males are allowed.

Hence, the people there are those genuinely trying to reform themselves, and are extremely nice and friendly. Most of the current camp counselors are former addicts who were once admitted there as patients!

They tore down our old cowshed and built a Church there. Beneath the Church, they built a dormitory where they all stayed together. Around 3 years ago, the entire Church burnt down due to faulty electrical wiring, engulfing the entire building along with most of their belongings. However, they rebuilt the Church and were all back on their feet in no time with help from the public and their Khatla sponsors.

They are mostly self sufficient, growing their own vegetables on the fertile land where we once used to grow our vegetables, and they even breed a few pigs and hens of their own. They also receive rice and clothes through charity donations. Apart from that, they also make domestic products like wooden TV cabinets, chairs, desks etc which through the help of various Church organizations, they’re able to sell to other people.

All in all, it’s like a brotherhood, and people who are “cured” of their addiction need not necessarily leave the place and can continue staying there supporting and looking after the others (but that means they cannot leave the compound and have to abide by all the existing rules). In fact, a lot of them had been disowned by their family during their addiction days, and Grace Home was the only solace they could find. Hence, Grace Home became their new family. Such was the bonding between each of them.

Even though I visit the place only once a year whenever I go home, many of them remember me. I’ve even played a good game of volleyball and cricket (yes, cricket! Don’t laugh at me, lolz) with them. There used to be a TT table too, but unfortunately, that is all worn out now, eaten away by time and termites.

The “rent” may be free, but they’re doing an excellent job looking after our farm, like clearing the occasional weeds and overgrown creepers, repairing the fences etc, making sure our farm doesn’t turn into a ghost farm. It was a bit awkward at first, considering how shy I am, but I really love spending time with them, listening to their stories and their point of view on certain issues like politics, sports, the opposite sex etc. and where they see themselves in the future.

If you’re into the spirit of sharing and giving, and have some surplus money you’d wanna give away to charity but don’t know where :) feel free to contact me and I can get the camp director’s number for you.

Below is a video I took at the far end of our farm… the particular area is really quiet, peaceful, misty, and a bit eerie if you’re alone (like one of those “you can scream all you want, nobody will hear you for miles” movie punch-lines), especially when one of the counselors started talking about how one of the inmates claimed to have spotted a lassi-pitar at that very same spot! Of course the only reassuring fact was that I was able to convince myself the guy who “saw” the spirit was probably going through a withdrawal symptom… :P

Here’s the short video clip. I’ve also clubbed this clip with another video clip I took just when we entered Durtlang Leitan on our way back.





And here are some pics I took that day. Click on them to enlarge.

On our way to Neihbawih, stopping briefly at Sihphir to buy snacks for the inmates. The giant white cross perching on the distant hill is so beautiful.





The path leading from the main road to our farm at the top of the mountain was so under maintained that it was no longer possible to drive up there. So we had to leave our Bolero at the base of the mountain and hike all the way up to the top. I lost 20 kgs I think :)











Our unoccupied farmhouse. I took some pics inside too but since there was no electricity, the pics didn’t come out well. What you see right outside our farmhouse is actually a (deserted and ruined) swimming pool. Man, those were some memorable times we used to have.





Below is one of our farm sheds, now almost about to fall apart. There’s nothing inside now. I still remember how scared I used to be of this particular farm shed, and how my evil sisters would walk with me till here after dark and then suddenly run away, making me run after them at the speed of light, crying.





Here are some of the rehab inmates crafting a beautiful polished TV cabinet from scratch. Like I mentioned before, this is one of the many ways they make their living.





Here is the new Church they built after the previous one burnt down. The view from the Church is breathtaking.





At a neighboring hill, a cell phone tower had been installed. During my days, we didn’t even have electricity here. Sometimes the owners of the neighboring farms would hire the rehab inmates to clear their land of weed or construct vine-supports for their squash plantations. Another good way to earn their livelihood.





And ending it with a few other pics in and around our farm.














Peace out. And advanced Merry Christmas, if I don’t get to update my blog again before the big day.

Chp 383. Sons of Anarchy - Season 4

Another great season of another amazing TV show has come to an end. Sons of Anarchy, definitely one of my all time favorite shows, ended two weeks ago. That means I gotta wait till September 2012 for the next season!

First of all, let me put up this big warning sign for those of you who haven’t watched Season 4 yet….

--- SPOILER ALERT ---

Yeah, I may love to troll sometimes, but I know where to draw the lines. I don’t want to spoil an awesome show for you.

Now coming back to SoA, I’ve been in love with the show since it came out three years ago. I’ve always been fascinated by 1%er (one percenter) Motorcycle Clubs like Hell’s Angels, Pagans, Mongols etc. I still remember painting a patch of one of these MC clubs on my brand new leather jacket using fabric paint back in school. That was in the early 90s. Many of my classmates were still playing with GI Joes then…

There was no internet those days but I got all the info I needed from a series of foreign magazines called Passing Wind or Pissing Wind or something like that which was all about the 1%er MCs (and also had lots and lots of pics of babes & boobs *GRIN*).

SoA is based on the 1%er MCs, and even though the names of the clubs and rivals clubs in the TV show are fictitious (correct me if I’m wrong), they are all (partly) based on actual clubs and events.

SoA is very much the Anti-Hero TV show, where the main characters are actually the “bad guys”, running guns & drugs, dealing in the flesh trade, treating women like property and prone to violence and even murder. The show beautifully depicts what being a 1%er MC is all about and has a loyal fan following among many MC enthusiasts around the world. With “Hell Boy” Ron Perlman playing the role of “Clay”, the President of the MC, I knew right then that this was going to be an awesome show.






Sons of Anarchy season 3 had a good ending, as I already pointed out in my previous post: Chp 354. End of a Season. Stahl is finally killed. The Sons go to prison to serve minimum time. And Tara found the letters JT wrote to Maureen, where he mentioned how he feared Clay will kill him one day because he’s trying to stop the guns deal with the IRA.

So there was suspense throughout the season – Will she tell Jax or not? Will Clay or Gemma get to her first before she tells Jax? How will Jax react if he learns his step-dad and mom killed his old man? Will Piney really tell the club about Clay’s secret? Will Clay have the guts to stop Piney, who is not just JT’s best friend but also the co-founder of SAMCRO?

And then there was the new added spice – the MC finally getting into the drugs trade, something that they voted to stay away from throughout the previous seasons. I wonder what the Nords would say to this, had they still been around in season 4, lolzzz.

And with the drugs came the Galindo Cartel. The whole club, especially the senior members, didn’t want to get involved with any cartel shit, but Jax eventually had to support Clay because he wanted to leave the club and Clay was his only ticket out.

But there are certain incidents in season 4 that I need to point out…

 

1. The “Black” Race Card

First of all, we know that the Sons aren’t racists. Juice is half Puerto Rican, Prospect V-Lin is chinese, and Hap looks pretty much latino or black. They have done their businesses with the 19ers (Blacks), Mayans (Hispanics), the Nords (White supremacists) and the Lin Triad (Chinese organized crime syndicate) to mention a few.

They are in extreme good relationship with the Grim Bastards (an all-Black MC), and when the Sons were in prison, the Black Guerilla Family (an all-Black prison gang) was protecting them from the Aryan Brotherhood (a White supremacist prison gang).

Apart from that, Chib’s ex-wife is of Irish Black descent, and hence naturally his daughter too. I even remember Bobby hitting it off with a hot African American chick in season 1 or 2 when the Sons went to Nevada to patch-over with the Devil’s Tribe.

So when you consider all these, I think it was really lame of the Sheriff to use the fact that Juice’s dad is black in order to blackmail him. I mean, I really don’t think any of the Sons would have cared if Juice’s dad is black or not. When Juice confronted Chibs about this “dark secret” of his, Chibs too just laughed it off, telling him that what really matters is what his birth certificate says, and that’s “latino” (hence conveniently not admitting whether the rest of the Sons will accept him or not if they know his dad’s black). 

Of course I completely understand where Kurt Sutter, the creator of the show is coming from. He had spent a lot of time with different MCs doing research for this TV show. He wanted to showcase the fact that most of these real 1%er MCs are racially exclusive clubs.

What I really like about Kurt Sutter is that, apart from playing the role of Otto, the uber cool SoA member languishing in Jail, he also runs his own blog on blogspot.com and writes about certain events regarding the show. In his blog, he explains about this particular Juice incident. If you’re interested, click here: sutterink.blogspot.com: Black & White of MC’s to read. He was merely trying to bring out this exclusivity criterion that exists in many MCs.

Latoya’s article regarding this issue (How Sons of Anarchy got racism right) is beautifully written too. However, my beef with this incident is not on the actual racism per se (whether it is a part of the show or not, or whether it actually exists in real MC’s or not), but the fact that it’s really difficult for a loyal SoA fan like me who knows every character so well to think that the Club members would turn against Juice if they learn about his dad’s origin.

Characterization, my friends.

 

2. The 14th Episode Shocker

I was biting my nails and sitting at the edge of my seat for thirteen awesome episodes. And then came the final episode of season 4. Just when DA Potter was about to launch the RICO assault against the Sons, the Kings and the Galinda cartel, Romero and Luis appeared and revealed that they’re CIA!!!! Holy $hittt!

I mean, if the Galinda cartel had been working for the CIA all along, why did they not even try to stop Potter’s RICO operation before? Why wait until the last minute?

And yes, I can picture Benito Martinez to be a cop because of his “SHIELD” background, but Danny Trejo as a CIA agent? Seriously? That really puts Machete and Johnny-23 to shame.

And you know what? Apparently, THIS was what Kurt Sutter intended all along! In his interview with Inside TV, Kurt mentioned that the CIA is known to play war games and take sides when two big cartels are fighting with each other, so that they will have control over who controls the drugs & arms money. He was afraid people might catch that on, and this was when Inside TV asked Kurt, “Was that one of the advantages of casting Danny Trejo as Romeo? I don’t think anyone would think of him as being Government Issue.”

Yup, you had me fooled there too. Shocked me real good, Kurt. But somehow, it left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth…

 

3. Season 5: What lies ahead?

As the episode ends, we see Tara dethroning Gemma as the new queen of SAMCRO while Jax takes over the Presidency, the two of them becoming mirror image of a much younger JT and Gemma (or is it JT and Maureen?).

Jax now knows that his step-dad killed his dad, and is also responsible for what happened to Piney, Gemma and Tara, but he cannot kill him because he needs Clay alive to keep the guns deal with the Irish going. No Clay means no guns deal. No guns deal means the Galindo cartel (aka CIA) will stop protecting SAMCRO from the Feds, who have enough evidence to close down their entire charter.

He also doesn’t know that his mother and Unser are also involved in the death of his father. Tara knows this. Gemma knows that Tara knows. Season 5 is going to be interesting!

And we don’t know if Opie is pledging his loyalty to Jax (but 100 bucks says he will be).

Also, the girlfriend of Laroy, head of the 19ers that Tig killed, happens to be the daughter of Damon pope, the most dangerous and powerful gangster in Oakland. So there is definitely going to be retaliation from Oakland in season 5. Oh how I wish Damon Pope is played by either Samuel L. Jackson or Michael Clarke Duncan. Please please please please!

Apart from this, season 5 will definitely show more of cartel retaliations from the Lobo Sonora Cartel too.

Oh yeahhhhhh, I can’t wait!!!!! SoA FTW!

Chp 382. Mumbai Mizo Association Sports Day

So, as mentioned in my previous post, here are some photos and video of our 2011 Mumbai Mizo Association Sports Day. Most of the pics are from Rossi and Beethugs Facebook album, so a big thanx to them. I’ve also edited a few photos *EVIL GRIN*

But first, here is the video I took that day. It’s around 12 minutes long, so why don’t you click on “Play” and let the video buffer while you go through the photos below?



First of all, I must say I was a lot more prepared than last year’s MMA Sports which also took place at the same venue. This time, I created a lot of personalized Google Map routes beforehand, and I could easily access the KML files from my phone’s GPS, like how to get to the venue via Western Express, via Eastern Express, from Mapuia’s house, from my house etc, and then how to go to Gokuls, Bandra, Vashi etc from the venue, making sure there are enough options so that we’ll never be lost again no matter where we decide to go.

[One of the route examples]

View Greenfields - Mumbai Port Trust Sports Ground in a larger map

As mentioned in my previous post, I participated in only volleyball and football, but I spent a good time capturing videos of other people. [voyeur artist in the making]

Below are some of the photos taken that day:

Our two groups – SAW PA Group and KHA PA Group, which for my non-Mizo visitors literally mean “That guy’s group” and “This guy’s group”. Lolz. But of course it can have a deeper meaning too… hehehe…



Here we are, assembling and starting the sports function with a short prayer.



Here is our traditional “Kawikah” game, where you have to hit the target using a special holding technique, a secret that has been passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, since the dawn of civilization, a technique similar to how a ninja would throw his deadly shiruken…







Though most of the members are young, a few of of us older folks really stand out… or should I say, jut out? I call this the Brotherhood of the Dulkiarzz.



Time for some volleyball now. Hehe, I’m loving it! :)














We won in volleyball. We also won the football match.



Later, we ended the sports event with prize distribution and group photo sessions.






Now, time for some fun… :D Here are a few photos I edited…











BONUS PIC (Showstopper, lolz)



Cheers :)

Chp 381. The Past vs The Present

Flashback 19 years ago. December 6th, 1992. I was in Calcutta, St. Thomas Boys’ School. We were playing basketball when our matrons hurriedly called everybody back to the hostel. Babri Masjid had just been demolished. We were told to hide inside.

Ok wait, that’s too much of a flashback.

Urmm… flashback 10 years ago. December 6th, 2001. Second Year Engineering College, PSG Tech, Coimbatore.

 
My diary, December 6th, 2001.

6:00AM: Waking up, to the sound of my neighbor softly playing a raga/bhajan from his room. I was up till 3AM this morning, completing an Electrical Lab assignment on Ohm’s Law. Being a computer science engineer student, I still don’t understand why we have all these other branches of engineering as a part of our course. Three hours of sleep is definitely not enough, but I have to go for our morning basketball practice…

6:30AM: Reach basketball court on time, just like any other morning. My teammates from various hostel blocks, including the day scholars, are slowly arriving at the court too. We groggily greet each other with a slight nod (and a yawn). Soon the team captain arrives, and he signals the start of our warming up session.

7:00AM: I’m panting and breathing heavily. We have just run 50 rounds around the two basketball courts, done a “shuttle-race” ten times and various other running exercises. By now I am truly warmed up. Now we will start other exercises involving a basketball, like layups from all sides and full court fast breaks.

7:30AM: Totally warmed up, I can now easily jump and hang from the basketball ring. A couple of teammates from 3rd and 4th year can do that too, but I am the only one from second year who is able to do that, which kinda makes me feel special. Now that we’ve done all our cardio exercises, it’s time for gameplay practice.

7:30AM to 8:15AM: We practice various gameplays, most of them involving our 7 feet tall centre Emmanuel from Rwanda. He, along with two other Rwandan exchange students Clement and Innocent form the basis of our starting five. I’m also in the main five. I play the shooting guard position, but if Clement, who is our point guard, gets substituted during a match, then I take over the PG realm. Hence, all our gameplays have to be practiced with Clement as the PG and then me as the PG, so that there is no confusion if either of us are playing or not playing.

8:15 to 8:45AM: We divide into two teams and start a match. As usual, Clement is in the opposite team. And again, when it comes to man-to-man, we take on each other. He is stronger, faster and a better ball controller than me, but I can jump higher than him. That is the only reason why I am selected in the University team too because having a ball controller who can jump almost as high as the forwards and pivots is not only rare but definitely gives an edge to a team when it comes to rebounds.

8:45AM: We are warming down now. That means 50-100 sit-ups, and stretching exercises.

10:00AM: Reach class, with a late pass from our sports director so that I don’t get marked absent. I try not to sleep during class, especially the boring ones.

12:30PM: Lunch break. Going out with my girlfriend to this new Punjabi restaurant near our campus.

1:30PM: Back to boring class schedules.

4:00PM: Done for the day. My friends Paolo, Johnny and Thomas are going for a new English movie that has just released. I can’t go with them because I have handball practice.

4:30PM: Reach the handball court. We practice for an hour. The captain is really impressed with my improved diving throws but at the same time cautiously tells me to be careful as it’s really easy to get injured if I play that way. But me, I’m riding high on the adrenalin and loving it.

5:30PM: Handball practice is over so I quickly run to the football ground. The football captain is a final year student from the North East, so as usual he allows me to play with the college team. I play the defense position (right back) and give our strikers a good challenge.

6:30PM: The football practice match is over and their coach calls everybody for feedback on their performance, which is a cue for me and a few non-team members to leave. I run to the basketball court. As usual, I get the evil eye from my basketball captain for being late but he doesn’t shout at me because he knows I’m the sports director’s favorite as I am a crucial member of our unbeatable handball team. Anyway, I didn’t miss much as all they did so far was cardio.

7:00PM: We start our evening practice match under the floodlights. It’s me versus Clement again. The match is more grueling than the morning practice session, and my girlfriend along with her classmates sometimes watch me play from the adjacent girl’s hostel, so I put in more effort (and style, lolz). Double team, double fake in the air, alley-oop, downtown jumper, fade-away shots, coast to coast and all that jazz.

8:00PM: Match over, we warm down as usual. Another 100 sit-ups, and then I run to the volleyball court where the college team is still practicing under the floodlights. They usually let me play too, unless they have a tournament coming up.

9:00PM: I have just taken a relaxing cold shower. I am now going out with Paolo, Johnny and Thomas for dinner, and we’ll probably be talking about Gopika, Priyanka and Indira. Hehehe…

11:00PM: We reach hostel just before the deadline. Now I will do a couple of assignments, read a few chapters, and then tomorrow, this same cycle of extreme fitness endurance repeats again.


-------------------------------------------------

 
My diary, December 6th, 2011.


I am sitting in office, every muscle, tissue and joint of my body aching. I still find it difficult to walk, sit, get up and lie down. I even took a leave from work yesterday (Monday) because of the immense pain. In fact, I was bedridden for the past two days (Sunday and Monday).

Why? Because on Saturday, I went for our MMA (Mumbai Mizo Association) Sports Day event, and participated in Volleyball and Football. I played just two games in Volleyball, and was the goalkeeper for Football. We won both the games of course, but my body took a big hit for merely playing that much.

Ten years, just ten years, and see the vast difference! Daymmmm!

Ten years from now, I dread to think where I’ll be (if I’m still alive by the Grace of God).


-------------------------------------------------


Will update next post with photos and videos of our MMA Sports Day… Cheers… and ouch*

Chp 380. Do you do these things too?

 
Just how different are you from others? I’m sure there used to be a point in time when you thought you were unique because you used to do things differently.

Then came the internet and it brought people from all over the world closer. Forget the famous “six degrees of separation” theory, Facebook now claims that everybody is just 3.74 degrees of separation away from each other!

Apart from social networking sites and a host of discussion forums and community sites, humor sites like 9gag.com are where people share their daily unique experiences… and suddenly, you realize you’re not so special and unique anymore because there are also many others just like you.


Below are a few things I do “in my own way”. Tell me if you do the same too…


Distance - I always measure the time and distance between two places I regularly go to, by the number of songs I have listened to on the way.



 

Alcohol -  I keep track of how much I’ve been drinking by the number of ice cubes left in my ice tray, or the duration of an ongoing live football match if I am watching one.



 

Security camera bomber - Whenever I see a surveillance camera when I’m at an ATM or Jewelry store or 5 star hotel or any other place, I always make a face at the camera. Not the stick-your-tongue-out kinda expression, but more of a cool, gangsta, one eyebrow raised “Yo, wassup” kinda nod. And then I try to imagine how the guard at the other end must be reacting had he been watching me.



 

Wrong direction - So you are going to some place and you suddenly realize you are walking in the wrong direction or the wrong street. Do you just turn around? Well, as for me, if there are people watching me (or I think they’re watching me, especially if those “people” are the pretty kind), then I just keep walking in the wrong direction, then act as if my phone is vibrating, pick it up, speak, and then turn around towards the right direction.



 

Porn - Yes, like any other normal hot blooded male out there, I too sometimes watch porn. But I always organize my Porn folder, neatly categorizing each video according to the genre it belongs to. Also, I hate going through a friend’s porn folder where all his videos are mixed and jumbled up.



 


Of roaches and lizards - I know many of you freak out when you see cockroaches and lizards inside your house. When I see a cockroach, my first instinct too is to smash its brains up. I’m no sadist, but those damn spawns of Satan will be bothering me sooner or later. But when it comes to lizards, I leave them in peace. Why? Because they mind their own freaking business, that’s why. In fact, sometimes I even name them.



 

The awkward disconnect - Yup there are times when I speak on the phone when I’m around people and the line suddenly gets disconnected or the reception is not clear, instead of shouting “Heellloooo, helloooo… can you hear me nowww?” like one of those people, I awkwardly (and politely) end the conversation even though I know the person on the other line cannot hear me.



 

The Naked Chef - Since I live in a cozy 1BHK apartment all by myself, sometimes when I’m at home alone during the weekends and not at a friend’s place or when I’m not having any company over, I love spending a quiet evening all alone, cooking, naked.



 


So… how many of you do these things the way I do too? :)