When I knew the approximate time I’d be off, I figured I’d just say bye-bye for a short while. While penning one such post, something tugged at my little red heart. I pretty much treat this space as my buddy. Spilling all that comes into my mind, at my feet and into my brain. I couldn’t just let it be ignored, and lay there starving, especially when my life was getting quite eventful. I mean, not everyday you get to lay under and have a cutie surgeon touch your knee, even if he was just gonna splice the area. Right? Right.
Also the husband and I live during the times when computers were rooted to the table and they were too large to be lugged around where your mind desires (read, we don’t own a laptop), and since I’d be stuck upstairs in bed never mind posting, typing would be a bit hard to do. So there goes my connection to the net. *sigh
Then again, I can read email. Yay! Thanks to the handy dandy *drumroll please* iPhone! :))
Anyways, after spending incorrigibly useless time browsing into WordPress settings while agonizing on how I can keep my daily dose of posts, I found that we could date a release of a post. Brilliant! As in write a post, and then date it to post in the future, post in the past, how fun!? I mean, that’s one heck of a time machine right there and we don’t even have to change outfits to fit in. *ok, a lil dumb, but cmon, smile a bit already, am sitting here with my leg stretched out onto a trashcan for comfort, and my knee looks like a bloated coconut. Surely, am allowed some lame jokes!*
So figured I’d just do some equally lame posts and talk about the weather, or scribble a fable, or crib about my leg some more before I go under the knife, you know the usual rants, and schedule them to show up. Then I wrote my first guest post. That was fun. The whole going around not only writing for yourself but for others too. I didn’t quite get the idea of what one derived out of it apart from the increase in hits (which I am told later is THE unspoken reason for guest posts! duh@me) and maybe perhaps is some sort of a rescue SOS call that the blogger sends out when the “writer’s” block hits him/her squarely on the head. So anyway, spent a nice day, sunning myself under the few comments but intense number of hits that post got. yay.
The next morning Shenoy saar (hehe, he’s gonna kill me for adding the suffix, but he’s a jolly good fella and I know I can take such liberties with him) and I were talking, well, more like he was ranting (and making it look like he was enjoying it) about his wife dragging him off for a movie and me clucking my tongue in sympathy. Before I knew it, my fingers typed the words on auto and asked if he would write a post for me. He said “sure”, and the conversation moved onto other depressing stuff like knee replacements and cervical spine surgery.
Thursday, I see this in my inbox. I was thrilled, and would have liked to do a jig this side of the earth in tune with his, but didn’t for obvious reasons, and instead just grinned widely. What? Where’s the post. Fine. I shall shutup, and present you the first guest post at Rads’. (o, btw, anyone else wants to, feel free to email me; will provide some variety to the readers.)
He’s got his unique style down pat and his comments on my posts send me into long fits of giggles that its’ becoming a serious issue reading him at work. It’s the PG wodehouse language along with his self-deprecating humor that’s earned him readers by the dozens. A rise to fame quick enough to put our gun-toting Sarah Palin to some serious shame.
I copy the mail below. Naren/Panditji, hope you are dancing in the streets of Mumbai and embarrassing your wife and sons alike.
Title of post: Nod to How right you are, Jeeves – published in 1960 or so.
Here it is. It is probably rotten, but it’s the best I could come up with after hours of honest thought. If you think it unfit for publication, I will shed a silent tear and say no more about it. But if you do decide to publish it, you will probably see me dancing in the streets.
My life has not always been unremarkable.
True, I am not high born. Nor am I terribly good looking. For instance, no one has mistaken me for Richard Gere or Brad Pitt. Or even Danny DeVito for that matter. But there have been times when people have taken notice of me.
I once ate 43 idlis at a competition in engineering college. And I was cultural secretary in charge of Gujarati Folk Dance.
And now, the pinnacle has been reached . I have been asked by Rads to write a guest post. So allow me two minutes while I dance a jig and then get down to business
Today, we are in Intrepid Reportage mode. Every now and then, we are inspired to leave the silly stuff to others and immerse ourselves in the arduous task of unearthing sensational news. So folks, here goes
MET OFFICE CHIEF SUFFERS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN – Mumbai, 10 September 2008
This reporter has learnt from reliable sources that the Chief of the Meteorological Office in Mumbai has been rushed to the intensive care unit at Breach Candy Hospital. While officials were tight lipped and would reveal nothing except that the Chief was out of danger, a source close to him said that the collapse was brought about by the fact that it rained heavily in Mumbai today.
“But…. But… the Met office report DID say that it would rain heavily today”, this reporter protested.
“Yes, but has it ever happened before?”, asked our source
“What do you mean….”, enquired our reporter, mystified.
“I mean, has the weather ever been as predicted by the Met office?”
“Well…..” this reporter said, thinking hard, “quite the opposite, actually…”
“Exactly!” said our source. “It has NEVER happened before. Which is why the director collapsed. ”
“I mean he was spooked. He has been mumbling about the fourth dimension and the spirit world.”
“Oh, we think he is too harsh on himself”, this reporter said. “Couldn’t it be that the prediction algorithms have improved, or the computer systems have become more powerful….”
“Ummm….” Our source paused in thought. “Maybe you’re right. The prediction system HAS been changed.”
“How do you mean?” inquired our reporter, his keen nose smelling a scoop.
“You know, earlier it was a covariant regression with 57 parameters including the salinity of the Mediterranean Sea and the mosquito population in Northern Canada”
“Well, I’m not really at liberty to divulge, please don’t quote me, but the first four words of the algorithm are Eenie Meenie Miney Mo”.
As our source was distinctly uncomfortable with the prospect of revealing cutting edge technology in weather forecasting, this reporter decided that it would be ethically incorrect to purse this line of investigation. After all, the security of the realm could be at risk.