Peoples of the Interwebs!!!
Hear Hear Hear!
This blog has been mostly anonymous for anyone coming from outside the social networks. But things might change!
There's this one thing I really really really want. Like, very badly. I've done everything that I possibly could, and soon things will move beyond my control. So now I need luck. Lots of it. My friend proposed we go to Dakshinkali and do a bhakal. I have a better idea: I will now bribe you, the good people of the interwebs to pray for me(if you believe in God) or wish that the dice of luck favors me if you're an atheist. What will you get out of the deal? Lots.
First, I will completely own up to this blog, and personally reply through very long emails to comments posted here. Second, I will actually start checking the posts for errors so that your reading experience is better. And as a token of gratitude for getting me THAT thing, I will seriously improve whatever I have been doing in this blog. Like, seriously.
Also, if I do get it, I will be open to questions of every kind, and will provide the answers in greatest detail and accuracy. If you ask, for example, when was the first time I drank fanta, I will describe the scene in extreme detail, with special importance to the sensory perceptions.
So peoples, pray for me. And pray hard. Whenever you're around a temple, pray that I get the thing I so truly greatly desire. I will know if you have prayed for me or not -- by December end I will be informed about the status of the desired thing.
Have a good day/night/morning ( those time zones are rather buggering) and pray, pray for me!
Sincerely,
Runil,
The guy who loves you and hopes you pray for him
Why I still use facebook
This is why I still use facebook, despite its evilness. A facebook Status in my Feed, from a senior...
Tehehe. I am laughing like an upturned cockroach.
Jhyau lagyo. (English translation: I am bored. OR. I have grown some pubic hair).
Tehehe. I am laughing like an upturned cockroach.
Word of the day: theodelite
Sentence: ted, u see that girl with the theodelite? Im gonna bang her. - barney stinson
...addendum: The 'nicest' Nepali models
...Diya Maskey. I'm watching Wai Wai little champs, and even when she's very mean(which she is most of the time), she looks kinda nice. Also, she looks like the person I won't talk about but someone whom many people think did not deserve *the prize*, but only better. As nepaliketi says: Judgmental Time!
And the truth shall set ye free
I wanted to do some free writing, and so I came up with this. Enjoy!
What sets us apart? What do you have to do to achieve global peace? Why do people fight? And what is the point of all this rambling nonsense that is going absolutely nowhere?
These are the questions I dont know about. And then there are questions I do know about, but I do not care for them enough because the people who work for those companies who bring us those medicine are evil, evil people indeed who will not even have any standards and may possibly stoop very low indeed to prove their point, which does not make much sense, once you think about it, but does make quite a lot of sense if you pretend to be a dumbo and think that people you like and admire are always right.
Because sweety, you may not at all know it by now, but this is life, and it will mess up with you, so get over it. Also, consider the proposition that it is a good idea to replace all the repltilians on the planet with arthropods as a valid argument, and use its validity to prove the existence of God, or any other source of free energy thereof, which may or may not include the so-called vacuum energy of the stateless empires who want only to kill other people and steal their monies, so that they could ultimately become rich people with several cars, and the ability to afford the ivy league for all the children of the community, and finally a chance to become a better human being. The people could be rich or poor, but rich would generally be better that the old one.
As new data of coupling/intercourse suggest that previous experience with such things does increase their consumption, although at the varied rate, depending upon the level of connectivity between me and anyone around in the university who's not touching the earthing. It was supposed to be a graft, the planners had it planned out but only if you are here and bunch and your guy even thouhgh a lot of time, working for someone else I doing two things at once. Exercise is the key element to human growth.
कति छिटो...
नेपाली FICTION TIME!!! My first sort-of story in Nepali after a loooong time. The like button is at the left corner at the end of this post :P
मलाई जान मन थिएन | यो जमाना पनि कतै त्यस्तो हुन्छ र जस्तो लागेको थ्यो | दुइ महिना सारा परिवार नै कन्विस गर्न तिर लाग्यो. जता गएपनि, "बाबुले येस्तो गर्नु भएन, संस्कृति हो," आदि आदि जस्ता गफ | अन्तिम मा गएर मान्नु पर्यो | मेरो जान्थ्यो नै के र?
हामी गयौं| म र परिवारका ५ जना, अनि मेरो यु.एस बाट संगै आएको साथी, मलाई धेरै अड नहोस् भनेर | घर राम्रै थ्यो, अगाडी अलि जग्गा भएको, फूल-तरकारी रोपेको थ्यो, अनि दूबोमा एउटा ठुलो डोबरम्यान सुतेको. यु. एस गएदेखि डोबरम्यान संग डर लाग्न थालेको थ्यो, सायद एयरपोर्टमा चोरलाइ जस्तै सुँघ्ने भएकोले | मलाई रबिन (मेरो साथी) ले कान मा सुटुक्क केहि भन्यो, अनि हाँसो रोक्न बडो गारो भयो | सालेले उतैको याद गराइदियो | अनि फेरी ग्राड स्कूल को चिन्ता ले सताउन थाल्यो. बिहे गरेर एतै सेटल गराउने भए के गर्ने? ग्राड स्कूल नपाउन्जेल केहि भन्न सकिन्नथ्यो. र उता जतिसुकै देशप्रेमी कुरा गरेपनि म एता बस्ने अवस्थामा थीइन. पागल हुन्थेँ, एतै बस्नु परेको भए.
बैठक ठुलै रैछ, एउटा ठुलो एल. सी. डी र तेस्मा जोडिएको xbox360. कजन हरु आ रैछन्, दिदीलाई जिस्कौन, अनि हामी आएको थाहा पाएपछि तेत्तिकै छोडेर भागेका. केहो फूलहरु. अनि भित्तामा केहि सर्टिफिकेट, पक्कै पनि हामीलाई देखाउन. गोल्ड मेडलिस्ट. मेडल ओफ हाइएस्ट अनर, अनि अरु केके हो केके. झन टेन्सन पर्यो. रबिन ले मलाई घोचेर भन्यो - ओई, केटि त डेन्जर छे जस्तो छ, तलाईं पेलेर राख्ने भै. आँखा ठूलो पारेर तेस्लाई तर्साए, अनि केके को धम्की दिएँ.
बाबु-आमा, दाजु-भाउजु अनि ठुलाबा ठुलिअमा आए. कोठा ठुलै भएपनि १३ जना अटाउने जस्तो त थिएन, मिलेर बसियो. अनि किरा सुरु भयो.
सुरु मा अलि अड भयो. बुवा हरु बिचनै कुरा भयो, पारिवारिक इतिहास को. को कहाँ बाट आएको, कसको के, कताबाट, मिलाउने मान्छे लाई कसरि चिनेको, काम के गर्ने कस्तो चल्दैछ सब को काम अनि अरु. मम्मी हरुले बिच बिच मा बोल्नु हुन्थ्यो, नभए अरु सब जना अलि केहि जोक जस्तै आयो कि ठुलो ठुलो स्वर मा हांसी हाल्नु हुन्थ्यो. मलाई पनि दिक्क लागेर सकी-नसकी हासी दिन्थ्यें. अनि रबिन चाहिं जिस्काएर हाँस्थ्यो. अब अर्को चोटी देखि तेल्ले मा संग हिंड्न नपाउला. तर तेल्लाइ के मतलब, उ त खुरु खुरु ग्राड स्कूल गइ हाल्छ.
आधा घण्टा जति पछि बल्ल मैन कुरा मा पुग्यो कुरो. "बाबुले कता पढेको, " - ठुलाबा ले मतिर हेरेर हेरेर सोधे. मैले सहर र कलेज को नाम भनें. "भर्खर पास गरेको? " फेरी प्रस्न आयो. १ वर्ष कम गरेर छुट्टी मनाउन आएको भनें.
"हाम्रो नानु ले चाहिं यै वर्ष पास गरेको, उसले पनि तेतै बाट हो. अब बाबु फेरी जाने कि एतै बस्ने?"
"जान्छु होला. पढाई नै पुरा गर्ने विचार छ, अहिले त."
"ठिकै हो. ऐले त फेरी काम नि पाईदैन रे, मास्टर्स नगरेर त कामै छैन |"
"ए साँची, छोरी चाहीं क गर्ने भन्छे नि? लिबरल आर्ट्स नै पढेको हैन, उसले पनि?" मेरो माइजुले सोध्नुभो.
"तेही त. एतै बसेर डाक्टर बन, तँलाई त के गारो छ र भनेको, हैन उतै गएर आर्ट्स पढ्छु भनि. ठिकै छ, तराई इच्छा हो भनेर दिउँ| अब ठुला भैसके, की भन्न पनि मिलेन|"
"हो त नि. फेरी आजकल क बच्चा बच्ची उतै बस्छु भन्छन्, तेही नै बेस नि, यहाँ बसेर यो सब खप्नु भन्दा त..."
रबिने लाई ट्वाइलेट जानु पर्यो रे.मोरो लाज मानेर मलाई सोध्दे न भन्न थाल्यो, खुसु-खुसु. के के बोलेको देखेर उताकी आमले केहि चाहिएको होको भनेर सोधीन् . अनि टोइलेट सोधी मागे, भित्र रहेछ. म पनि संगै जान थालें.
बुवाले "साथीसंग ट्वाइलेटपनि संगै जानुपर्छ?"सोधी हाल्नु भयो. अनि हाँसो को गर्जाहट सुरु भै हाल्यो. "हैन, मलाई पनि जानु छ" भनेर कुलेलम ठोकें.
रबिन ट्वाइलेट भित्र पस्यो, म चाही ढोकामा मोबाइल चलाउदै पर्खें. एक जान आएर "ट्वाइलेट जाने भए उता नि छ नि, " भनेर अनि ठुलै स्वर मा भनि. स्योर केटीकि बहिनि. राम्रा जैले नि बहिनि हुन्छन्.
"अम्म, हैन, मलाई येहीं ठिक छ" भनें | उता ट्वाइलेट मा रबिन मोरो खै किन हाँस्दै छ |
"हैन, फेरी बाटो फोहोर हुन्छ नि" | हैन, कत्रो ठुलो स्वर भएकी केटि. अनि त्यो ट्वाइलेट भित्र को कुकुर हाँसेर मर्न लागिसक्यो.
"हैन, भित्र गएको मान्छे को सामान कम्मोडमै अटाउछ होला, भुइँ फोहर हुन्न. नत्र मा फोहर गर्ने मान्छे लाइ नै सफा गर्ने लाउँला नि|"
अनि ट्वाइलेट तिर फर्किएर ठुलै स्वर ले कराएँ -- " ओए सुनिस्? यहाँ बहिनीले भनेको सब्बै सामान कम्मोड मै अटा रे, नत्र आफै सफा गर्नु पर्छ रे|"'
अब हाँस्ने पालो 'बहिनीको' थियो. "हैन, मैले त --" ऊ बिचमै रोक्की. "तपाईं नै 'केटा' हो है?" मलाई सोधी.
आज मेरै दिन रैछ. "तिमीलाई म केटि जस्तो लागे हो क्याहो? म तिमीलाई ग्यारेन्टी दिन्छु, म केटानै हो |"
केटि का बहिनि राम्रा त हुन्छन् नै, हँसाउन नि सजिला हुन्छन. खास्स्मा नेपाली कल्चर मा साली प्रति को मोह त्यसैले तेत्ती धेरै हो. हेर्न गएको बेला सब जानाले केटीको बहिनि चाही पाए हुन्थ्यो सोच्छन, अनि बिहे दिदि संग गरेपनि सालिकै गीत गाउन्छ. बहिनीहरु पनि कुरो बुझ्ने भएर अलि कम चारमिंग हुनु नि, झन दिदि हेर्न आएको केटा को अगाडी झन धेरै भैदिन्छन्. ऊ फेरी खित्खितई.
मलाई जान मन थिएन | यो जमाना पनि कतै त्यस्तो हुन्छ र जस्तो लागेको थ्यो | दुइ महिना सारा परिवार नै कन्विस गर्न तिर लाग्यो. जता गएपनि, "बाबुले येस्तो गर्नु भएन, संस्कृति हो," आदि आदि जस्ता गफ | अन्तिम मा गएर मान्नु पर्यो | मेरो जान्थ्यो नै के र?
हामी गयौं| म र परिवारका ५ जना, अनि मेरो यु.एस बाट संगै आएको साथी, मलाई धेरै अड नहोस् भनेर | घर राम्रै थ्यो, अगाडी अलि जग्गा भएको, फूल-तरकारी रोपेको थ्यो, अनि दूबोमा एउटा ठुलो डोबरम्यान सुतेको. यु. एस गएदेखि डोबरम्यान संग डर लाग्न थालेको थ्यो, सायद एयरपोर्टमा चोरलाइ जस्तै सुँघ्ने भएकोले | मलाई रबिन (मेरो साथी) ले कान मा सुटुक्क केहि भन्यो, अनि हाँसो रोक्न बडो गारो भयो | सालेले उतैको याद गराइदियो | अनि फेरी ग्राड स्कूल को चिन्ता ले सताउन थाल्यो. बिहे गरेर एतै सेटल गराउने भए के गर्ने? ग्राड स्कूल नपाउन्जेल केहि भन्न सकिन्नथ्यो. र उता जतिसुकै देशप्रेमी कुरा गरेपनि म एता बस्ने अवस्थामा थीइन. पागल हुन्थेँ, एतै बस्नु परेको भए.
बैठक ठुलै रैछ, एउटा ठुलो एल. सी. डी र तेस्मा जोडिएको xbox360. कजन हरु आ रैछन्, दिदीलाई जिस्कौन, अनि हामी आएको थाहा पाएपछि तेत्तिकै छोडेर भागेका. केहो फूलहरु. अनि भित्तामा केहि सर्टिफिकेट, पक्कै पनि हामीलाई देखाउन. गोल्ड मेडलिस्ट. मेडल ओफ हाइएस्ट अनर, अनि अरु केके हो केके. झन टेन्सन पर्यो. रबिन ले मलाई घोचेर भन्यो - ओई, केटि त डेन्जर छे जस्तो छ, तलाईं पेलेर राख्ने भै. आँखा ठूलो पारेर तेस्लाई तर्साए, अनि केके को धम्की दिएँ.
बाबु-आमा, दाजु-भाउजु अनि ठुलाबा ठुलिअमा आए. कोठा ठुलै भएपनि १३ जना अटाउने जस्तो त थिएन, मिलेर बसियो. अनि किरा सुरु भयो.
सुरु मा अलि अड भयो. बुवा हरु बिचनै कुरा भयो, पारिवारिक इतिहास को. को कहाँ बाट आएको, कसको के, कताबाट, मिलाउने मान्छे लाई कसरि चिनेको, काम के गर्ने कस्तो चल्दैछ सब को काम अनि अरु. मम्मी हरुले बिच बिच मा बोल्नु हुन्थ्यो, नभए अरु सब जना अलि केहि जोक जस्तै आयो कि ठुलो ठुलो स्वर मा हांसी हाल्नु हुन्थ्यो. मलाई पनि दिक्क लागेर सकी-नसकी हासी दिन्थ्यें. अनि रबिन चाहिं जिस्काएर हाँस्थ्यो. अब अर्को चोटी देखि तेल्ले मा संग हिंड्न नपाउला. तर तेल्लाइ के मतलब, उ त खुरु खुरु ग्राड स्कूल गइ हाल्छ.
आधा घण्टा जति पछि बल्ल मैन कुरा मा पुग्यो कुरो. "बाबुले कता पढेको, " - ठुलाबा ले मतिर हेरेर हेरेर सोधे. मैले सहर र कलेज को नाम भनें. "भर्खर पास गरेको? " फेरी प्रस्न आयो. १ वर्ष कम गरेर छुट्टी मनाउन आएको भनें.
"हाम्रो नानु ले चाहिं यै वर्ष पास गरेको, उसले पनि तेतै बाट हो. अब बाबु फेरी जाने कि एतै बस्ने?"
"जान्छु होला. पढाई नै पुरा गर्ने विचार छ, अहिले त."
"ठिकै हो. ऐले त फेरी काम नि पाईदैन रे, मास्टर्स नगरेर त कामै छैन |"
"ए साँची, छोरी चाहीं क गर्ने भन्छे नि? लिबरल आर्ट्स नै पढेको हैन, उसले पनि?" मेरो माइजुले सोध्नुभो.
"तेही त. एतै बसेर डाक्टर बन, तँलाई त के गारो छ र भनेको, हैन उतै गएर आर्ट्स पढ्छु भनि. ठिकै छ, तराई इच्छा हो भनेर दिउँ| अब ठुला भैसके, की भन्न पनि मिलेन|"
"हो त नि. फेरी आजकल क बच्चा बच्ची उतै बस्छु भन्छन्, तेही नै बेस नि, यहाँ बसेर यो सब खप्नु भन्दा त..."
रबिने लाई ट्वाइलेट जानु पर्यो रे.मोरो लाज मानेर मलाई सोध्दे न भन्न थाल्यो, खुसु-खुसु. के के बोलेको देखेर उताकी आमले केहि चाहिएको होको भनेर सोधीन् . अनि टोइलेट सोधी मागे, भित्र रहेछ. म पनि संगै जान थालें.
बुवाले "साथीसंग ट्वाइलेटपनि संगै जानुपर्छ?"सोधी हाल्नु भयो. अनि हाँसो को गर्जाहट सुरु भै हाल्यो. "हैन, मलाई पनि जानु छ" भनेर कुलेलम ठोकें.
रबिन ट्वाइलेट भित्र पस्यो, म चाही ढोकामा मोबाइल चलाउदै पर्खें. एक जान आएर "ट्वाइलेट जाने भए उता नि छ नि, " भनेर अनि ठुलै स्वर मा भनि. स्योर केटीकि बहिनि. राम्रा जैले नि बहिनि हुन्छन्.
"अम्म, हैन, मलाई येहीं ठिक छ" भनें | उता ट्वाइलेट मा रबिन मोरो खै किन हाँस्दै छ |
"हैन, फेरी बाटो फोहोर हुन्छ नि" | हैन, कत्रो ठुलो स्वर भएकी केटि. अनि त्यो ट्वाइलेट भित्र को कुकुर हाँसेर मर्न लागिसक्यो.
"हैन, भित्र गएको मान्छे को सामान कम्मोडमै अटाउछ होला, भुइँ फोहर हुन्न. नत्र मा फोहर गर्ने मान्छे लाइ नै सफा गर्ने लाउँला नि|"
अनि ट्वाइलेट तिर फर्किएर ठुलै स्वर ले कराएँ -- " ओए सुनिस्? यहाँ बहिनीले भनेको सब्बै सामान कम्मोड मै अटा रे, नत्र आफै सफा गर्नु पर्छ रे|"'
अब हाँस्ने पालो 'बहिनीको' थियो. "हैन, मैले त --" ऊ बिचमै रोक्की. "तपाईं नै 'केटा' हो है?" मलाई सोधी.
आज मेरै दिन रैछ. "तिमीलाई म केटि जस्तो लागे हो क्याहो? म तिमीलाई ग्यारेन्टी दिन्छु, म केटानै हो |"
केटि का बहिनि राम्रा त हुन्छन् नै, हँसाउन नि सजिला हुन्छन. खास्स्मा नेपाली कल्चर मा साली प्रति को मोह त्यसैले तेत्ती धेरै हो. हेर्न गएको बेला सब जानाले केटीको बहिनि चाही पाए हुन्थ्यो सोच्छन, अनि बिहे दिदि संग गरेपनि सालिकै गीत गाउन्छ. बहिनीहरु पनि कुरो बुझ्ने भएर अलि कम चारमिंग हुनु नि, झन दिदि हेर्न आएको केटा को अगाडी झन धेरै भैदिन्छन्. ऊ फेरी खित्खितई.
HIMYM craze is all the rage: long live How I Met Your Mother
I said it once before but now it's official(for me): How I Met Your Mother is officially the new FRIENDS in Nepal. For anyone who does not know, HIMYM is a story of five friends who go to a BAR every evening (take THAT, you wimps of a coffee shop) and talk and things happen. The main theme is that this Ted guy is telling his kids in 2030 about how he met their mother(his wife). The show is in sixth season, and he is STILL telling them the story. Joel Stein (Funfact: I like 4 fanpages in facebook, one of which is Joel Stein is a GOD, so you get the idea) commented about the show in Twitter:
And the proof: I am yet to meet anyone who's not watched or at least heard of Himym recently. There's no show apart from Friends that's done that, and now even that show's getting tooo old for younger kids(like me, teheehe).
Oh, and pretty soon, the next HIMYM is gonna be Modern Family, after HIMYM ends. Or not. It doesn't use laugh tracks, so a LOT of people are prolly gonna get confused about when to laugh.
I still love HIMYM, but at this point, I don't care if Ted Mosby marries his own motherThat says at least two things about the show: the fact that even JOEL STEIN 'loves' HIMYM is the proof of the show's Frikkin' Awesomeness. Second, the show's not really about Ted meeting the mother anymore. It's actually kinda-sorta the 21st century CBS version of the dated FRIENDS, but only much, much better (and funnier, and dirtier... they would never have dared some of HIMYM jokes on FRIENDS)
And the proof: I am yet to meet anyone who's not watched or at least heard of Himym recently. There's no show apart from Friends that's done that, and now even that show's getting tooo old for younger kids(like me, teheehe).
Oh, and pretty soon, the next HIMYM is gonna be Modern Family, after HIMYM ends. Or not. It doesn't use laugh tracks, so a LOT of people are prolly gonna get confused about when to laugh.
What is the deal with you guy, you're looking pretty dumpy today--stomach give you trouble again?
Yes, I know, the stomach. Women and stomachs are all the same, them necessary evils. What? No, that's not sexist. If THAT is sexist, then it's also Organist, 'cuz I am sure stomachs are not too excited about being bunched together with women as 'necessary evils' either. So keep outta the sensitive issues here, and don't try creating controversy over nothing. Drink some water, and take some of the proverbial 'chill pill' if you are still feeling very excited.
Why do we even need stomaches? To ache? There's no stomACHE without the ACHE. Without the aches, all you have is stoma, which if you paid attention to your grade 9 bio teacher, is a part of a plant. That's right, people, if you did not have stomach, you would be a PLANT! A soviet/Chinese plant to be more specific, in you country of adoption, and your aim would be to infiltrate the society and send in important recon information to the mother country. Red Salute, Comrade!
They are not very tasty either. Lungs are good, kidney's aren't bad too, liver's wonderful, and hearts are small but if your mother's a good cook, they can be as good as livers. But stomachs are like the dirty and smelly cousins of the organs, that look like a towels in public men's rooms in either Ratna Park or in one of those old movie theaters, if you know what I mean. Dirty and smeelllllllly. You might add all the oils and spices and herbs and beverages of both alcoholic and non-alcoholic nature to it, but a stomach is a stomach is a stomach and it's never ever ever gonna taste or smell any good. Unless you are drunk or otherwise high. IN which case, anything will taste okay. That is also why butcher shops in Nepal are always near liquor shops: since the boozeguys aren't going in for the taste anyway, they might as well buy the andra-bhudi.
If you have been following my line of argument, you must have noticed I talked of budhi(wife) first and then somehow I started talking about bhudi. THEY RHYME! And even when I was talking of one, I was also talking of the other, as you just read. My point is BHUDI AND BUDHI ARE ONE AND ALL THE SAME!!! Women = stomach = women, the point I started with.
To be fair, I have no idea what this means, but I know it's a frinkkn' big discovery. Bhudi-budhi-bhudi-budhi... Lalalala...
Why do we even need stomaches? To ache? There's no stomACHE without the ACHE. Without the aches, all you have is stoma, which if you paid attention to your grade 9 bio teacher, is a part of a plant. That's right, people, if you did not have stomach, you would be a PLANT! A soviet/Chinese plant to be more specific, in you country of adoption, and your aim would be to infiltrate the society and send in important recon information to the mother country. Red Salute, Comrade!
They are not very tasty either. Lungs are good, kidney's aren't bad too, liver's wonderful, and hearts are small but if your mother's a good cook, they can be as good as livers. But stomachs are like the dirty and smelly cousins of the organs, that look like a towels in public men's rooms in either Ratna Park or in one of those old movie theaters, if you know what I mean. Dirty and smeelllllllly. You might add all the oils and spices and herbs and beverages of both alcoholic and non-alcoholic nature to it, but a stomach is a stomach is a stomach and it's never ever ever gonna taste or smell any good. Unless you are drunk or otherwise high. IN which case, anything will taste okay. That is also why butcher shops in Nepal are always near liquor shops: since the boozeguys aren't going in for the taste anyway, they might as well buy the andra-bhudi.
If you have been following my line of argument, you must have noticed I talked of budhi(wife) first and then somehow I started talking about bhudi. THEY RHYME! And even when I was talking of one, I was also talking of the other, as you just read. My point is BHUDI AND BUDHI ARE ONE AND ALL THE SAME!!! Women = stomach = women, the point I started with.
To be fair, I have no idea what this means, but I know it's a frinkkn' big discovery. Bhudi-budhi-bhudi-budhi... Lalalala...
Wai Wai eating contests will fry you deep in the oven and then add some vinegar for spice
Wai wai is a dangerous communist tool developed by Communist leader Stalin and his right-hand man Mao who was the brother-in-law of the guy named Marx.
So if you want to eat Wai Wai remember that it has a dangerous chemical called Ajinomoto which is made from the fat of Pigs and Cows that give milk, so that the hindus and muslims are both going to be killed by their respective gods, which raises an interesting philosophical question: how many different religions are there in heaven or different perceptions of heaven thereof.
If we are to listen to the highly respectable, intelligent and religiously people of the venerable Foundation for Krisna Consciousness, there is only Krisna and Krisna himseld(or herself, depending upon whether you seem him as a guy or a gal, in Radha form) but other highly respectable and religiously devout individuals from other religions would oppose it on grounds of--you know... So, lets assume there are LOTS of gods and goddesses and they all follow whatever religion they want to follow.
Then, they will preside over a flat world with the twin cities for Ankh-Morpork, and be ruled by a benevolent Patrician called lord Vetineri, and will have a University called the Unseen University, modeled after the Invisible College of the seventeenth Century.
The Wizards of the unseen University (UU) will however be mauled by by bears from Wasilla, Alaska, who are in fact human beings from Nepal, who have eaten the Wai Wai with Ajinomoto and then turned into wild polar bears.
So, eating waiwai is bad for health of children and men and dogs and cats and hopefully the buggering crow that took a dump on me the other day, because, by Darwin, if I ever get that Crow, I am gonna' feed it with all the WaiWai I can afford and then feed it to Obesity and ultimately death. Revenge is sweet, specially when refrigerated. But don't add too much Vanilla essence and sugar, or else it will be bitter. Like Prachanda after leaving the PM.
And that will herald an age of true wisdom and knowledge, where man will be respected for who is is and what he has done, not for his father and grandfather. What about the women, you ask? Yes, I ask the same, for there are not going to be any women in that world, as they will have become intelligent enough to develop a system to do without men, so they will have boarded an intergalactic spaceship and abandoned mankind and Earth.
So how will people reproduce? They wont. That will be the end of the mankind as we know it. But Womankind will have saved humanity. And gays. They will have gone with the women, cuz the women will need BFFs and things like that and cool shoes and then someone to tell them their shoes are really cool and the sorts.
So if you want to eat Wai Wai remember that it has a dangerous chemical called Ajinomoto which is made from the fat of Pigs and Cows that give milk, so that the hindus and muslims are both going to be killed by their respective gods, which raises an interesting philosophical question: how many different religions are there in heaven or different perceptions of heaven thereof.
If we are to listen to the highly respectable, intelligent and religiously people of the venerable Foundation for Krisna Consciousness, there is only Krisna and Krisna himseld(or herself, depending upon whether you seem him as a guy or a gal, in Radha form) but other highly respectable and religiously devout individuals from other religions would oppose it on grounds of--you know... So, lets assume there are LOTS of gods and goddesses and they all follow whatever religion they want to follow.
Then, they will preside over a flat world with the twin cities for Ankh-Morpork, and be ruled by a benevolent Patrician called lord Vetineri, and will have a University called the Unseen University, modeled after the Invisible College of the seventeenth Century.
The Wizards of the unseen University (UU) will however be mauled by by bears from Wasilla, Alaska, who are in fact human beings from Nepal, who have eaten the Wai Wai with Ajinomoto and then turned into wild polar bears.
So, eating waiwai is bad for health of children and men and dogs and cats and hopefully the buggering crow that took a dump on me the other day, because, by Darwin, if I ever get that Crow, I am gonna' feed it with all the WaiWai I can afford and then feed it to Obesity and ultimately death. Revenge is sweet, specially when refrigerated. But don't add too much Vanilla essence and sugar, or else it will be bitter. Like Prachanda after leaving the PM.
And that will herald an age of true wisdom and knowledge, where man will be respected for who is is and what he has done, not for his father and grandfather. What about the women, you ask? Yes, I ask the same, for there are not going to be any women in that world, as they will have become intelligent enough to develop a system to do without men, so they will have boarded an intergalactic spaceship and abandoned mankind and Earth.
So how will people reproduce? They wont. That will be the end of the mankind as we know it. But Womankind will have saved humanity. And gays. They will have gone with the women, cuz the women will need BFFs and things like that and cool shoes and then someone to tell them their shoes are really cool and the sorts.
Aeeh! Things to watch on teevee
These days How I Met Your Mother is like the new Friends. Everyone's watching it and loving it, and Barney's (and Robin's and Ted's and Lily's and Marshal's) lines are everywhere--facebook, Gmail, messenger. When I introduced myself by saying that I liked "....mother" at Scribble Wibble, they said "Aww, but everyone does, tell us something different about you", which is telling how popular it really is here.
But there are other good shows that are running right now too. The Office is awesome(the American version, the Brit is dry), and so is The Big Bang Theory(though it is not as like 'cuz it needs a certain level of uhh--thinking). Then there's The Simpsons , as always.
So it was a pleasant surprise to discover Modern Family(currently in season 2). It does not have laugh tracks and is a mockumentary--the office style--which makes it different, and fun. I love all the other sitcoms, but it's a change to laugh at something without a cue. It's witty, and fast, and sooo real and lifelike and I loove it!
But there are other good shows that are running right now too. The Office is awesome(the American version, the Brit is dry), and so is The Big Bang Theory(though it is not as like 'cuz it needs a certain level of uhh--thinking). Then there's The Simpsons , as always.
So it was a pleasant surprise to discover Modern Family(currently in season 2). It does not have laugh tracks and is a mockumentary--the office style--which makes it different, and fun. I love all the other sitcoms, but it's a change to laugh at something without a cue. It's witty, and fast, and sooo real and lifelike and I loove it!
And this is why commies(sp. the mad ones) are so great
I was reading Murakami(who will definitely get a nobel within a decade) this afternoon when I realized Nepalis and expats living in Nepal have not at all utilized an abundant resource--frothing mad communists.
I mean, look at the opportunities.
There's so much opportunity for humor and attire with all the comminess going around. I mean, does the YCL have a rule on what the members should wear, eat, drink listen to, etc, and do they actually have a rule on watching of movies that may take the interest of the revolutionaries away from the revolution to more--primal--acts? What does 'bidesi malik ko das bannu' mean and is it still bad even if you do it right after the revolutionary comrades do it? What did Comrade's Prachandas mustache tell to his hair? ? Etcetera etcetera... That kinda thing. So anyway, there's a character in one of murakami's stories who wonders if it is okay for a member of the communist party to listen to a certain musician/singer. Hur Hur Hur! Time for some bad jokes now:
Comrade, comrade, the wood dealer is dead.
What? I said you had to deal with the woodcutter, not cut the wood dealer.
Commissar, commissar, we kicked the ambassador's ass!
What? You had to Ass the ambassador's kick. not the other way round
I mean, look at the opportunities.
What is an exchange of ideas at the Maoist Party meeting?Okay, these are all adaptations of 'In soviet Union.." jokes. But you get the idea.
A: I came with my ideas and went with theirs.
An old man is dying in a village, just when there's a knock at the door. "Ko ho?"the old man asks. "Yamaraj"comes the thunderous reply. "Thank god! I thought it was the YCL."
Radio Mirmire(the Maoist controlled radio) announced that everyone could call them and express their opinions. The callers just had to give their full name, address, and the next kin.
Mr. Prachanda comrade goes to a Nepal Olympic Committee program to give a speech. He starts-- Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh--when comrade Baburam interrupts. "Comrade," he whispers, "these are the Olympic rings. The speech is below."
What do you get when you cross a YCL member and a snake?
An poisonous and dangerous creature that hisses.
Comrade Prachanda goes to a pig farm one day, and the papers take pictures of him with the pigs. At TKP's office there's a discussion on what the caption should read. "Prachanda among pigs", "Prachanda and Pigs", "Pigs around Prachanda" are all rejected. Finally the editor makes a decision--'third from left, comrade prachanda',
There's so much opportunity for humor and attire with all the comminess going around. I mean, does the YCL have a rule on what the members should wear, eat, drink listen to, etc, and do they actually have a rule on watching of movies that may take the interest of the revolutionaries away from the revolution to more--primal--acts? What does 'bidesi malik ko das bannu' mean and is it still bad even if you do it right after the revolutionary comrades do it? What did Comrade's Prachandas mustache tell to his hair? ? Etcetera etcetera... That kinda thing. So anyway, there's a character in one of murakami's stories who wonders if it is okay for a member of the communist party to listen to a certain musician/singer. Hur Hur Hur! Time for some bad jokes now:
Comrade, comrade, the wood dealer is dead.
What? I said you had to deal with the woodcutter, not cut the wood dealer.
Commissar, commissar, we kicked the ambassador's ass!
What? You had to Ass the ambassador's kick. not the other way round
Basantapur Pictures III
The Kite-flying kid.
This is Dashain. Indrachowk and the surrounding areas are always jam-packed with people and motorbikes and bhariyas during dashain-Tihar. It took me 15 minutes to walk through the crowd seen in the picture.
Basantapur Darbar. And kids flying kites. And people
A little girl with a kite which she can't fly because her brothers wont let her to
A long-exposure pic of main Square
Another long-exposure pic of the main square.
The main sqaure
Kids, kites, cameras and Koreans
Koreans, kites, cameras, kids,
Cameras and koreans, Kids
Babajis and temples
Romanticizing Kathmandu
I just read The most impressive blog post I have read for some time. It's pretty bad in terms of grammar and language actually(not that I'm any better), but the content's soo cool. MANYUDIXIT
The post romanticizes Kathmandu. Now, I think romanticizing Nepal(including Kathmandu, obvs) has its pitfalls. Anil Shah tells people wherever he goes, that Nepalis might have seemed happier and more content in the sixties and seventies and eighties, but maternal mortality was at its highest, available of health services was THE lowest in the world, only one out of every five Nepali could read and write, there was little freedom of expression and opinion, and so on... The happiness was very primitive... The bliss was out of ignorance and not through knowledge, and therefore temporary(ooh, cool philosophy, amirite?)
The point is, I don't care how many hippie bands said Kathmandu was the best place on Earth in the sixties, it was not. Oh wait, it miight have been for those pot smoking, frolicking, backpacking hippies, but not for the REAL Nepalis, who, you know, actually lived in Nepal and stuff. For Nepalis and Kathmanduites, the best time is right now. I'm going slightly off-topic here, I'll write more on this in some other post, but more importantly, the Kathmandu of the nineties.
Kathmandu of the nineties was full of promises. The Panchayat system was over, media was being liberalized, foreign brands were slowly entering Nepal, the middle class was rising...and (something very, very wrong is happening to me... OMG! I cannot stop thinking about love stories) time was ripe for the beginning of a love story.
The love story that began in the mid-to-late nineties in Kathmandu will end in 2010, or possibly sometime in the future. In 1995-98, Kathmandu was full of promises, today we know they were lies, and have learned to live with that. The Kathmandu of the nineties believed that progress would come from within, today's Kathmandu knows progress needs to be imported, and is doing it very-very well.
Back to the love story. The love story I talked about in one of my previous posts(which involves Kumari hall) will begin in the nineties. The characters of the nineties will be naive, inexperienced, and unknowing. The characters of today will be depressed, cynical, and mostly pessimists. They do not trust in promises--irregardless of who makes them--political leaders, police, old lovers, new lovers, parents.
But the story cannot end now. If it does, it's gonna be a very sad story indeed. I must wait for a good ending. Kathmandu's rising, and good days will certainly come. It's just a matter of time--five years or fifty, I cannot say. I now have a beginning, a middle part, and now I need a happy ending. I will wait.
The post romanticizes Kathmandu. Now, I think romanticizing Nepal(including Kathmandu, obvs) has its pitfalls. Anil Shah tells people wherever he goes, that Nepalis might have seemed happier and more content in the sixties and seventies and eighties, but maternal mortality was at its highest, available of health services was THE lowest in the world, only one out of every five Nepali could read and write, there was little freedom of expression and opinion, and so on... The happiness was very primitive... The bliss was out of ignorance and not through knowledge, and therefore temporary(ooh, cool philosophy, amirite?)
The point is, I don't care how many hippie bands said Kathmandu was the best place on Earth in the sixties, it was not. Oh wait, it miight have been for those pot smoking, frolicking, backpacking hippies, but not for the REAL Nepalis, who, you know, actually lived in Nepal and stuff. For Nepalis and Kathmanduites, the best time is right now. I'm going slightly off-topic here, I'll write more on this in some other post, but more importantly, the Kathmandu of the nineties.
Kathmandu of the nineties was full of promises. The Panchayat system was over, media was being liberalized, foreign brands were slowly entering Nepal, the middle class was rising...and (something very, very wrong is happening to me... OMG! I cannot stop thinking about love stories) time was ripe for the beginning of a love story.
The love story that began in the mid-to-late nineties in Kathmandu will end in 2010, or possibly sometime in the future. In 1995-98, Kathmandu was full of promises, today we know they were lies, and have learned to live with that. The Kathmandu of the nineties believed that progress would come from within, today's Kathmandu knows progress needs to be imported, and is doing it very-very well.
Back to the love story. The love story I talked about in one of my previous posts(which involves Kumari hall) will begin in the nineties. The characters of the nineties will be naive, inexperienced, and unknowing. The characters of today will be depressed, cynical, and mostly pessimists. They do not trust in promises--irregardless of who makes them--political leaders, police, old lovers, new lovers, parents.
But the story cannot end now. If it does, it's gonna be a very sad story indeed. I must wait for a good ending. Kathmandu's rising, and good days will certainly come. It's just a matter of time--five years or fifty, I cannot say. I now have a beginning, a middle part, and now I need a happy ending. I will wait.
Murakami's the Man, Yo!
There's lotsa' talk among, ahem--"intelligent people"-- about the possibility of Murakami getting the Nobel prize for literature this year. It's in the discussion for this Gawker post anyway...
I've read a few of Murakami's works, and dyaang, I am impressed. He makes writing seem soo easy, the apparent ease of his writing, and the flow are like make it seem almost reachable. Which it is absolutely not. I mean, I admire Rushdie, but I know I am not going to be able to write like him if I were given three human lives. With Murakami, it's just the opposite. Though I am certain it's even more difficult than writing like Rushdie. I mean, Murakami's being taken as a possibility for a Nobel, and Rushdie's not(okay, there's a lot more to that than solely their writing, but still) and he's still so approachable.
The coolest thing about the guy is he started writing at age 29. Before that, he was just the normal guy--engineer or something--had a family, did a regular job and all. Then he went to a baseball match, and after seeing the hitter hit a ball, he had an insight, so he went home and started writing a novel, which later gained him international recognition and might possibly get him the biggest literary award on earth. He's written quite a few works after that, and some of them are apparently better, but seriously--that dude had NO idea he would be a writer until he was 29. That's kinda strange, once you consider people who spend their entire lives learning the art of writing, taking course after course after course on the same, and ultimately achieving nothing much. And then there's him, Haruki Murakami, THE GUY!
PS: I am reading What I Talk About When I talk About Running , Murakami's autobiography, right now, and I have Dance, Dance, Dance at hand. Heard a lot about Kafka on the Shore, but books with names of pop icons in their names scare me.
PPS: New Yorker has lots of Murakami's short (relatively, that is) stories. Anyone with an account there MUST read his stories. The first work I read was The folklore of our times(subscription required), and I fell in love with the man since then.
I've read a few of Murakami's works, and dyaang, I am impressed. He makes writing seem soo easy, the apparent ease of his writing, and the flow are like make it seem almost reachable. Which it is absolutely not. I mean, I admire Rushdie, but I know I am not going to be able to write like him if I were given three human lives. With Murakami, it's just the opposite. Though I am certain it's even more difficult than writing like Rushdie. I mean, Murakami's being taken as a possibility for a Nobel, and Rushdie's not(okay, there's a lot more to that than solely their writing, but still) and he's still so approachable.
The coolest thing about the guy is he started writing at age 29. Before that, he was just the normal guy--engineer or something--had a family, did a regular job and all. Then he went to a baseball match, and after seeing the hitter hit a ball, he had an insight, so he went home and started writing a novel, which later gained him international recognition and might possibly get him the biggest literary award on earth. He's written quite a few works after that, and some of them are apparently better, but seriously--that dude had NO idea he would be a writer until he was 29. That's kinda strange, once you consider people who spend their entire lives learning the art of writing, taking course after course after course on the same, and ultimately achieving nothing much. And then there's him, Haruki Murakami, THE GUY!
PS: I am reading What I Talk About When I talk About Running , Murakami's autobiography, right now, and I have Dance, Dance, Dance at hand. Heard a lot about Kafka on the Shore, but books with names of pop icons in their names scare me.
PPS: New Yorker has lots of Murakami's short (relatively, that is) stories. Anyone with an account there MUST read his stories. The first work I read was The folklore of our times(subscription required), and I fell in love with the man since then.
I am apparently pretty good at writing love stories. Who knew? PS: I am certainly using this talent for evil purposes
The strangest thing happened the other day. I was under quite a lot of pressure, and I was expected to tell a love story. So I pulled a story right outta' my--err- mouth, and lots of people liked it. Even more amazingly, many people still come to me even until now and tell me they rather liked the story. And I was like, Huh, seriously? I mean, I hope you're not just buttering me up because you need something from me, like maybe writing an essay, 'cuz lemme' tell you sister, I am not AT ALL writing stuff that you are supposed to write. Oh and I hope that Bakery item you bought for me was just as a friend or an unknown acquaintance, as it's not gonna change my views either.
So anyway, the story was not very good anyway. I suspect Ir, the best storymaker I knew, would have thought of that kinda story in grade 6 or 7, and would already have been too old for it by maybe 9. But here I was, trying to get away with some crazy-ass story, and I was actually being cheered.
Here's the scenario. I fall in love with a girl, and then I break up. Make a story out of that.
We had literally bumped into each other. I was with a friend at ND's in Bansweshwar, and she was with her friend. Just as I was about to leave from my table, she bumped into me--actually, she banged into me. When I later asked her if she had intentionally bumped into me, she rolled her eyes and said "Oh, so you think I am the kind of girl who goes bumping into random strangers?" I didn't answer. Her friend told me later that she had, in fact, intentionally bumped into me. And that is how we literally fell into love with each other.
...And Blah Blah Blah, cheesy cheesy stuff, blah blah blah, and then they break up, blah blah blah... And then I leaned about blah blah blah. I finally got married to the girl my parents blah blah. I love my wife blah blah blah...I now have a wonderful girl blah blah blah twinkle of my eye or whatever blah blah blah You get the idea.
That's when I realized that love stories are damn easy. In fact, they're the easiest thing in fiction. I mean, if I, who would be a preschooler if such things were the formal education, can spin such yarn, it must be eeeasyy-peasy, right? As always, Pfft, Love stories, sooo overrated....
So anyway, the story was not very good anyway. I suspect Ir, the best storymaker I knew, would have thought of that kinda story in grade 6 or 7, and would already have been too old for it by maybe 9. But here I was, trying to get away with some crazy-ass story, and I was actually being cheered.
Here's the scenario. I fall in love with a girl, and then I break up. Make a story out of that.
We had literally bumped into each other. I was with a friend at ND's in Bansweshwar, and she was with her friend. Just as I was about to leave from my table, she bumped into me--actually, she banged into me. When I later asked her if she had intentionally bumped into me, she rolled her eyes and said "Oh, so you think I am the kind of girl who goes bumping into random strangers?" I didn't answer. Her friend told me later that she had, in fact, intentionally bumped into me. And that is how we literally fell into love with each other.
...And Blah Blah Blah, cheesy cheesy stuff, blah blah blah, and then they break up, blah blah blah... And then I leaned about blah blah blah. I finally got married to the girl my parents blah blah. I love my wife blah blah blah...I now have a wonderful girl blah blah blah twinkle of my eye or whatever blah blah blah You get the idea.
That's when I realized that love stories are damn easy. In fact, they're the easiest thing in fiction. I mean, if I, who would be a preschooler if such things were the formal education, can spin such yarn, it must be eeeasyy-peasy, right? As always, Pfft, Love stories, sooo overrated....
Crazy times--When pressure cracks you up
Everyone knows that person who could not take the pressure, and literally went crazy, at least temporarily. I know too--two of them, and I am not even counting myself.
I have had two 'nervous breakdowns', both of which have been rather short. The first time was in grade 10, when a month of erratic sleeping and eating habits, and lots of pressure took their toll on me, and I --how do I put it in a good way--'got confused' for a few hours. Of course, they were 'few hours' from my point of view--what I thought were a few hours had apparently been 2 days for everyone else. I was fortunate I was not seen as 'that type' before that--I later found out that many had suspected I was high on powerful hallucinogens before finding out it was --well, me.
The second time happened a week ago. It was not a breakdown per sé. I was attending a presentation when everything suddenly went blur, my upper body(including torso, head and arms) numbed down, and I literally lost my speech. Whenever I tried to speak, only random vowels and consonants would come out, a feeling I am sure only pre-nursery kids experience normally. My speech was almost beyond my control. I assumed my 'pressure had gone down, so I ate the saltiest and the spiciest stuff I could find, and I was back to normal in half an hour. Apparently, my absurd eating habits had messed up my digestive system, which was warning me to get a regular meal timetable or else--.
Anyways, the lesson is-- eat well, or go crazy. Also, never ever ever anger me 'coz I may go HULK ANGRY! HULK DESTROY! HULK CRAZY! on you, and trust me, that's a possibility. So, get me a big mug of milk and cashew-flavored Good-Day biscuit. No, I don't care what you are doing right now. Listen, my pressure's rising, you don't want me to get angry, do you? I DONT CARE! RIIGHT NOW, I SAID!
----End of the reader-intimidating post-----
I have had two 'nervous breakdowns', both of which have been rather short. The first time was in grade 10, when a month of erratic sleeping and eating habits, and lots of pressure took their toll on me, and I --how do I put it in a good way--'got confused' for a few hours. Of course, they were 'few hours' from my point of view--what I thought were a few hours had apparently been 2 days for everyone else. I was fortunate I was not seen as 'that type' before that--I later found out that many had suspected I was high on powerful hallucinogens before finding out it was --well, me.
The second time happened a week ago. It was not a breakdown per sé. I was attending a presentation when everything suddenly went blur, my upper body(including torso, head and arms) numbed down, and I literally lost my speech. Whenever I tried to speak, only random vowels and consonants would come out, a feeling I am sure only pre-nursery kids experience normally. My speech was almost beyond my control. I assumed my 'pressure had gone down, so I ate the saltiest and the spiciest stuff I could find, and I was back to normal in half an hour. Apparently, my absurd eating habits had messed up my digestive system, which was warning me to get a regular meal timetable or else--.
Anyways, the lesson is-- eat well, or go crazy. Also, never ever ever anger me 'coz I may go HULK ANGRY! HULK DESTROY! HULK CRAZY! on you, and trust me, that's a possibility. So, get me a big mug of milk and cashew-flavored Good-Day biscuit. No, I don't care what you are doing right now. Listen, my pressure's rising, you don't want me to get angry, do you? I DONT CARE! RIIGHT NOW, I SAID!
----End of the reader-intimidating post-----
Basantapur Pictures II [Updated]
These are the pictures that I took yesterday and last Friday at Basantapur. I was hoping to take lotsa long-exposure shots and high contrast ones, but things did not work out, so I was left with these. I will be posting some of yesterday's pictures in another unrelated post.
The first picture is of alu pakoda at one of those thelas. The shopkeeper kept insisting he was a small-restaurant owner, and consented to allow to the pictures only if I referred to him as a restaurant owner. Here you are, Mr. Thelawaalah!
This one, one the right, has a traditional Nepal Army guard protecting the Basantapur area in front of one of the temples. Since it was really very dark when I took the shot, this image was very messy and noisy, so I removed the details to get this surreal portrait.
A composite of several images. The little girl on the right was hovering around the balloon-wallah for quite some time, maybe hoping to get a balloon or the cotton candy, so I took some shots and superimposed them on one another. Since it got kinda messy, I removed details from the image, and was left with this cute but basic image.
I like this picture, a lot. Perhaps the bun is just the right color here, or maybe its the lettuce, but it's pretty good. Of course, I was careless with the motion and all, so the bun is blurred if you zoom in, but yummy nonetheless.
I know, this look super-charged and unreal, but I swear the sausages and potatoes were exactly this color.
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