Archive for the ‘humour’ Category

So It Happens Again!!!

Lightening never strikes twice in the same place. Heard that one?

Well, I’ll let you on in a little secret.

It does. It really, totally, mind-bogglingly does!! Take the cases listed here (Some of them are rather bizarre and NSFW. Just saying).

Forces of nature are random, they cannot be predicted. They follow their own chart, picking their own targets. Some people are lucky, never falling prey to these forces.

And some, like me, fall for them head over heels every single time 😦

To cut a long story short, a couple of years back, while I was deputed to work from the client side, this happened to me. It was a planned fire-drill.

(Old time readers of this blog will already be sniggering at this point)

Now I have a love-hate relationship with fire-drills (anyone in my situation would have the same). I love it because I like the safety angle, getting people to evacuate at a short notice, taking a head count, making sure all are safe and sound, getting to demonstrate how to use a fire-extinguisher, etc !


I was an ERT (Emergency Response Team) member once and was quite capable of handling a crowd. I also know that a lot of ERT members are cursed under breath for disrupting work, disturbing meetings, disallowing coffee on the stairways and also for preventing people from talking on the phone during evacuation.

I understand their plight. Been there, done that.

B-U-T. one thing I’ve never done as an ERT member, is to target an innocent 😐

But, before I further my tale, let me tell you what happened with me first.

So there I was, my first day at the client side,  talking to my manager, taking in the surroundings and the silence (used to a loud,  boisterous work-culture at my company), getting spooked at the eerie way people were glued to their monitors , with not a whisper from anywhere, when suddenly, a voice pips up.

“You need to go down right now”.

I turned to see a young lad (may be older, but the stray whiskers on his upper lip indicated otherwise) with a notepad and pen in his hand.

“Excuse me”, he repeated, “You need to go down right now”.

I looked at my manager. She looked at me, both puzzled deeply. It was my first day on the job there and I don’t think I had a run-in with the law or something!

“Err…why”, I asked politely.

“Because we are having a..”, he straightened up considerably,”…fire drill”.

I looked around. Everyone else was seated, quietly doing their business.

I was specifically being asked to go down first in a fire drill.

Déjà vu much??

Hell yeah!!

The ignominy, the irony, the sheer lighting on my head was enough to set a blaze in my eyes. My entire body stiffened with indignation, at which, the astute lad (he must be astute, to be an ERT member) immediately changed his track – “Is there any pregnant or unwell member in your team ? If yes, they need to evacuate immediately before we can start the fire-drill”.

Quick thinking, I must say. He realized, within a fraction of a second, that the woman he had assumed to be much pregnant, was indeed, not!

Without a backward glance, the lad quickly made his exit, no doubt exhilarated at the thought of escaping my wrath.

I looked at my manager, who, by now was a helpless mass of giggles, clutching her stomach and almost doubled over her seat.

“Yeah yeah, laugh away!!”, I lamented, “YOU were seated, that’s why he didn’t target you!!”.

My manager couldn’t reply to that. She was still busy laughing her guts out.

Me, I made my way to my seat, cursing for the umpteenth time, the extra fat clinging on to me .

Of course I was furious, of course my face was burning with humiliation and of course I had to share this news with the BF.

Trrring trring……I called him later that day.

“Hello, whats up”, says the BF.

“We had a fire drill today”, I started.

“WHAT?!! OH NO!! DON’T TELL ME!!! I THINK I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT”, saying which the dear husband started guffawing as loudly as the international lines would allow him!

And therein, dear friends, lies my sad tale.

I am struck again and again and again 😦

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Monday Laughs

Its rather late in the day, but what the hell, its still Monday here. Got some funnies in my mailbox after a long time.

Two deaf men were in a coffee shop discussing their wives.
One signs to the other, boy was my wife mad at me last night! She went on and on and wouldn’t stop!
The other Buddy says when my wife goes off on me I just don’t pay her any attention.
How do you do that? Says the other.

It’s easy! I just turn off the light!
One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in a small town wakes up early and goes to their local church. Before the service starts, the townspeople sit in their pews and talk about their lives and their families.

Suddenly, at the altar, Satan appears!! Everyone starts screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in their determined efforts to get away from Evil Incarnate. Soon, everyone is evacuated from the church except for one man, who sit calmly in his pew, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God’s ultimate enemy is in his presence. This confuses Satan a bit. Satan walks up to the man and says, “Hey, don’t you know who I am?” The man says, “Yep, sure do.”
Satan says, “Well, aren’t you afraid of me?”
The man says, “Nope, sure ain’t.”
Satan, perturbed, says, “And why aren’t you afraid of me?”
The man says, “Well, I’ve been married to your sister for 25 years.”
A blonde decides to try horse back riding without prior experience or lessons. She mounts the horse with great effort, and the tall, shiny horse springs into motion.

It gallops along at a steady and rhythmic pace, but the blonde begins to slip from the saddle. Out of shear terror, she grabs for the horse’s mane but cannot seem to get a firm grip. She tries to throw her arms around the horse’s neck, but she slides down the side of the horse anyway. The horse gallops along, seemingly oblivious to its slipping rider.
Finally, giving up her frail grip, she leaps away from the horse to try and throw herself to safety.
Unfortunately, her foot has become entangled in the stirrup. She is now at the mercy of the horse’s pounding hooves as her head is struck against the ground again and again. As her head is battered against the ground, she is mere moments away from unconsciousness or even death when Frank, the Wal-Mart manager runs out to shut the horse off

Have a great week folks 🙂

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The Power Of Being Punctual

Found this in my inbox this morning.
Had to share it 🙂

A Priest was being honoured at his retirement dinner after 25 years in the parish. A leading local politician and member of the congregation was chosen to make the presentation and to give a little speech at the dinner.

However, he was delayed, so the Priest was asked to say a few words in the meanwhile. Not being prepared to speak then, he wondered for a minute and then decided to share his experience on the first day in the parish to highlight how one should not rush to conclusions.

‘I got my first impression of the parish from the first confession I heard here. I thought I had been assigned to a terrible place. The very first person who entered my confessional told me he had stolen a
television set and, when questioned by the police, was able to lie his way out of it. He had stolen money from his parents, embezzled from his employer, had an affair with his boss’s wife, taken illegal drugs, and gave VD to his neighbour. I was appalled.

But as the days went on I learned that my people were not all like that and I had, indeed, come to a fine parish full of good and loving people.’….

Just as the Priest finished his talk, the politician arrived full of apologies at being late. He immediately began to make the presentation and gave his talk: ‘I’ll never forget the first day our parish Priest arrived,’ said the politician. ‘In fact, I had the honour of being the first person to go to him for confession.’

Moral : *Never, Ever Be Late.*

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( Phew!! Take a break. That title would have worn you out. Here then, take a sip of this water. Feeling better? Alright then, read on!)

Since I was a little kid, I loved those hindi songs more which were picturized on a moving car. If in a convertible, the heroine would be standing, holding on to the windshield, her scarf/dupatta fluttering in  the wind and happiness writ large on her face. She would sing of love and devotion and clear skies with puffy clouds in the same breath and the hero would smirk on confidently. Sometimes, she would tire out and snuggle up to him on the front seat. She would coo up at him and he would be gentlemanly enough to give her an indulgent glance before focussing on more pressing needs such as driving the car in a straight line. If he felt more generous, he would quickly whip out a bunch of glass bangles from under the seat and hand it over to his lady love. She would giggle like a five year old who has just been given her first Barbie. He may croon a few loving words himself, aligning his heart with the fragility of those bangles and the heroine would just simper and snuggle up closer. She might even light up a cancer-stick for him!!

The front seat in those days permitted such close movements. Drat you Maruti for bringing in the bucket seats 👿 . And even if the world at large knew that the car was standing still in some studio while the background moved around crazily, the hero would rarely, rarely take his eyes off the road. No siree…he may be in love and all that jazz, but he knew the traffic rule book . No amount of female adulation would make him lose his focus. He had to keep his car on the road and damn those silly hormones ringing in his ears.

*Sigh* Those were the days…………..

Nowadays we have heroines in skimpy attires woo-ing their men in moving vehicles while the men ogle unashamedly and sometimes, when them hormones ring seriously loud, even stop at a lonely stretch. What he whips out may not resemble glass bangles by any stretch of imagination and what proceeds next is best hidden behind a bunch of flowers. Or scarves. Or dupattas.But the point is, men rarely encourage seduction when the car is in motion.
What hasn’t really changed from then and now, is how men treat their women. And how men treat their women in their cars . They may give their woman fleeting attention, but if she wants more, the car has to stop.It would take a few more generations for women to realize that when weighed on the same scale, cars always, always score higher. They are allowed to weigh more. They are allowed to cost more. They are allowed to have the widest hips available. They are permitted sky-high maintenance. But any man worth his windshield sprinklers will confide (under an ebriated state, of course. Thats when the truth comes out) that given a choice, he would always choose his car over his girl.

Being a veteran of the “Do-You-Prefer-The-Car-Or-Me” brigade and weathering many a frosty,air-conditioned storms, I’ve come to the conclusion that when a man is driving, you just let him be. Let him caress the steering and stroke those gears. Let him play footsie with the clutch/brake/accelerator and croon sweet nothings at the dashboard. Leave him to steal glances at his own reflection in the reirview mirrors. A wise woman is one who doesn’t attempt to come between the man and his car. A wise woman carries along a book for the long distances and carries her longing for the short ones. A wise woman nods in agreement with every praise the man throws his car’s way. If he says, “look at the way she purrs”, you don’t turn your head towards your window and growl. Firstly, purring doesnt equal growling. Secondly, he didnt mean you. Being a wise woman, you ought to reply sweetly, “Just like a cat” and see him puffing up with pride. I dare say he may even feel a tad more affectionate towards you.

Being a wise woman myself, I now propose all the in-the-car seducing tricks that a middle-aged woman with kids should desist from (heck! I guess ALL women should desist from), if she wants to retain her dignity and the front passenger seat.
So all you middle-aged mommies out there, yeah, you who’s loyal to her post-partum weight even after 10 years, listen up. Here are a few tips on seduction stuff you shouldn’t try in a car.

Note : If you are a woman, single, unmarried, child-free, under twenty-five and weigh less than 52kgs, GET OUT!! Scram. Shoo. Vacate this space asap. This post is so NOT for you!!

(Aaaah….felt good to take that out of my system)

So without much ado, here’s the list :-

1) leggy-lass lacks leg-space : Remember that scene from Jism where John Abraham’s character drives his jeep along some tree-shaded route and Ms Basu’s character props up her healthy legs on the windshield?

Well, erase this  memory. Its a no brainer. Firstly , because we rarely have convertibles/jeeps being driven around. Try that trick in  your enclosed car and you’ll probably be begging the good doctor for an euthanasia rather than having a spine replacement job done.
Secondly, be honest, where exactly do you think your tummy disappears off to when you try and raise your legs high, huh?
And oh! Don’t ever try it out if you have thighs spilling from the sides of your bucket seats. And if you are the type of middle-aged woman who’s still slim as a willow, I HATE YOU already!!!

2) Tickle-me-not : You may have seen movies where a heroine slides a finger down the sides of the hero’s face. She then traces it down to his neck. The hero looks on stoically and it is a testimony to his acting skills that he doesn’t just yelp/squeal and drive the car off the road and crash into a fire hydrant.
Truth is, men are ticklish. They may swear they are made of sterner stuff, but look deeper and each man has his sensitive points (usually the are near the ears, towards the neck). If you know your man’s funny-bone, keep away from  it!! Miles away.Because your man isn’t an actor. He wouldn’t be able to control himself and will probably bill you for all the expenses he’ll have to incur later.

You wouldn’t want to pay up for that now, would you??

3) Go Wordy On Me : Not. Are you the types who loves reading out passages from your novel to your loved one? Do you like poetry and quote Wordsworth or Ogden Nash as your car cruises by the landscape? Do you try to make him understand the beauty of a Byron or a Yeats?
Well, take a break. A permanent one. The only poetry your man understands would be the smooth motion of his car, the sheer comfort of his bucket seat, the boisterous honking of the horn, the demure dipping of its headlights. Get real girl. Yeats is no match for a turbocharged 3.8ltr V6 Engine.

You may try engaging him in a map though. Men LOVE maps 😐

4) Perfume(d) : Seduction by olfactory?! Err…not unless you want to hide the fact that you haven’t really taken a bath for a couple of days 😐 . Dab a drop more than needed and see him feverishly pulling down the windows and making sure that he sticks his head out of his window throughout!
You see, when inside a car, he likes to breathe in the leather, the dust of the foot-mats and the gentle fragrance of ambi-pur. Your thousands worth CK or Davidoff don’t matter!! They never did 😦 . You may be at your sexiest best, but he may end up looking like this :-

5) The Before and After : So you just had some…..umm.. good time in the car. You’ve reached your place. Its time to get off. You want to have some more fun at home. You drop him a hint.
Chances are, he’ll take the hint ONLY if at your exit, his car’s in the same state as ‘before fun’. If he finds your seat completely reclined, the foot-mat hanging half out of the door, the car-freshner lies on the floor and his favourite Tarzan car-toy is missing a vital piece of clothing, then you better lock the door and tuck yourself in. He isn’t gonna come back for you. Ever!!

If this is what the car looks like when you get off…..be prepared to go home alone 😐

Thats some pearl-of-wisdom there. Feel free to add to the list.

And don’t forget to have a rocking weekend 🙂



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We have a fire drill in the office building next week.

Rather a harmless event, given that we are forewarned (unlike real instances where we need to act without prior intimation) and forearmed. In my company (the one I belong to, not the one where I sit) I used to be a fire-marshall, or the floor incharge. I even received fire-fighting training from the personnel belonging to the fire station nearest to our office. The training was much fun. I learned to differentiate between the A,B and C class of fire-extinguishers. Also learned how to use a water hose and how to change its flow. Much fun was had in the trainings.

(Uh. I think I went off-track there)

Coming back to the fire drill in this office. It is next week. So the security guards in the office were asked to carry out some preliminary rounds and talk to a few people regarding the same. On one such duty, this particular female security guard sidles up to my desk this morning. I look up at her enquiringly. This is how our conversation went :-

Me : Haan?

Female Security (FS) :  Ek baat bolni thi aapse.

Me : Haan bolo.

FS : Agle week iss building mein fire drill hone wala hai.

Me : Haan, mujhe pata hai. Mail aaya tha.

FS : Madam, humko instructions mila hai ki office mein jitni bhi pregnant ladies hai, unka list banana hai.

Me : (remembering how we were trained to follow the same routine) Haan haan, sahi baat hai.

FS : Toh madam, aap pregnant hai na, issliye next week woh siren bajega to aap darna mat. Aapko pehle bahar nikalenge.

Me :  😯 *Stunned speechless*

FS : Madam?! Okay madam??

Me : (Finally able to breathe) Err…ummm…*ahem* *cough*  Mai pregnant nahin hoon.

FS : 😯 OHHH !! Sorry madam….mujhe laga…… sorry madam.

(This is the cue for me to breakdown sobbing on my desk and for you to hold your tummy and guffaw out loud 😐 )

Me : Nahin nahin…koi baat nahin….

With gentle reassurances, the lady left my desk.

Needless to say peeps, am sorely upset today. I mean, my kids will turn three in a couple of month’s time…and here I am, still hanging on to my cesarean pouch as though my next kid lived in it 😦


Ramzan went by and did nothing to give me a break! I still haven’t lost an ounce! Why O why does the fat love me so?! I’m so hopping mad today 👿 !! Haven’t mentioned the tale to the BF. Much ‘I-Told-You-So’s expected 😦 . You know, I’ve been trying real hard lately. I’ve changed my diet, have moderate meals , use the stairs and do as much physical work as possible. But looks like its all pittance in the vast ocean of adiposity (is that even a word?!).


Can anyone please burn away this fat for me……or at least turn that water-hose on me and wash it away?!

Pretty please ?


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Social Media Explained

A day after this post from Ritu, I got this image in a mail :-




That sums it all, doesn’t it?

(And also explains why I’m not that active on any of these sites 😀 )

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Jokes Of Another Era

Came across these jokes some time back. It was in the context of changing ‘joke-trends’, about how the jokes have evolved over the ages. These are the jokes from early 1900. I enjoyed them, hope you do too 🙂

PS: They might not be rip-roaring funny, but they are definitely in good taste 🙂


The father of a certain charming girl is well known in this town as “a very tight old gentleman.” When dad recently received a young man, who for some time had been “paying attention” to the daughter, it was the old gentleman who made the first observation:

“Huh! So you want to marry my daughter, eh?”

“Yes, sir; very much, indeed.”

“Um–let me see. Can you support her in the style to which she has been accustomed?”

“I can, sir,” said the young man, “but I am not mean enough to do it.”


This is the way the agent got a lesson in manners. He called at a business office, and saw nobody but a prepossessing though capable-appearing young woman.

“Where’s the boss?” he asked abruptly.

“What is your business?” she asked politely.

“None of yours!” he snapped. “I got a proposition to lay before this firm, and I want to talk to somebody about it.”

“And you would rather talk to a gentleman?”


“Well,” answered the lady, smiling sweetly, “so would I. But it seems that it’s impossible for either one of us to have our wish, so we’ll have to make the best of it. State your business, please!”


Alderman Curran, of New York City, worked his way through Yale College. During his course he was kept very busy by the various jobs he did to help with his expenses. On graduation he went to New York, and was even busier than he had been in New Haven.

After some months of life in New York, a friend met him and said,”Henry, what are you doing?”

“I have three jobs,” replied Mr. Curran, “I am studying law, I am a newspaper reporter, and I am selling life insurance.”

“How do you manage to get it all in?” said the friend.

“Oh,” replied Mr Curran, “that’s easy enough. They’re only eight-hour jobs.”


A bellhop passed through the hall of the St. Francis Hotel whistling loudly.

“Young man,” said Manager Woods sternly, “you should know that it is against the rules of this hotel for an employee to whistle while on duty.”

“I am not whistling, sir,” replied the boy, “I’m paging Mrs. Jones’s dog.”


“Excuse me,” began the visitor, who was more or less visibly embarrassed; “but—my name is Tompkins! Er—did—er—my wife—er—leave an order here for cigars, to be delivered to my home on—er—Christmas Eve?”

“Tompkins?” said the cigar man. “Just one minute! D. B. Tompkins? Yes, sir. One hundred flor de Hobokianos! Price, $2.50! Ordered banded in red and gold and a card enclosed, with the felicitations of Mrs. D. B. Tompkins!”

“Exactly! Well, I’m D. B. Tompkins. Now, I’ll tell you what I’d like you to do. You take those red-and-gold-banded stinkarees my wife ordered and hand them to some fireworks man to be utilized as punk along about the Fourth of next July. Use the box thus provided for a hundred good, clear Havanas at about $9.50. I’ll pay the difference! Understand? And in the meantime—mum—‘M-U-M’—is the word! Do you get me?”

“I’m wise in a second!” replied the cigar man. “What you want me to do is to take the present incumbents of the box ordered by Mrs. Tompkins out on the hillside somewhere and bury them deep down in the yawning sod. In their places you want a practical smoking cigar of the kind that is usually sold without an accident policy! And you stand ready to pay the difference!”


Tompkins handed over a greenback and received his change.

The cigar man smiled appreciatively.

On Christmas Day Tompkins opened the box and abstracted therefrom a good, big, black Havana.

“You seem to enjoy that cigar,” suggested Mrs. Tompkins, as he blew rings of soft blue curling smoke at the chandelier.

“Enjoy them?” echoed Tompkins. “Why, they’re simply delicious!”

Mrs. Tompkins purred her delight at this wholly unexpected tribute.

“And yet,” said she musingly, “there are men who are mean enough to say that a woman doesn’t know anything about buying cigars!”


Charming, aren’t they? 🙂

How sad it is that we now delight in jokes that are openly double-meaning and full of profanity 😦 , not to mention, the distinct lack of grammar and deplorable choice of words!!

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to hunt for the link where these came from. If you find them, do let me know 🙂

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