Garfiled: All time favourite

It's been long time since we enjoyed havin Garfield around. So he's back again. Enjoy Folks.

Intricate Girls

It’s a cliché many guys use “I cannot understand girls”. So why can’t we guys understand girls, let’s put light on some of the illogical thing that girls do which intensify their complexity.

Girls are very social. They are always in groups, trio or duo. The keyword there is always. In duos, if a girl is thirsty then the other girl is bound to be a part of the quenching process whether she is thirsty or not. Being together is a different thing, but sticking together is what girls are fond of. On a serious note, if a guy initiates a love relation with a girl who is part of a duo or trio he will starve to the get the privacy of two’s company and will always be the part of the crowd.

Girls are friends in minutes and enemies in seconds. Being friends and being apart is a very easy process for girls. Even long friendships end in just a minute of misunderstanding. Girls are communal, but the gossip queens always have one or the other reason to create friction between themselves.

Girls unconditionally support solidarity. In colleges if an event a gathering or picnic is being organized and a girl from a duo or trio is unable to attend the event due to some reason. Then, her over supportive friends will have ample number of fake reasons not to attend the event, why? God knows. I think this is what they call daisy chaining.

Girls do not miss a single chance to tease boys, but when boys get a little excess of the fun then girls get angry in no time. The water dispenser will be just outside the class but the girl will order the boy to get the water rather that giving some exercise to her own feet.

So, Arshad Warsi was 100% right when he told “Ladkiyon ka logic ka switch hamesha off rehta hai” in Salaam Namaste. It was on a different situation but yes there is no on state in the logic switch of girls. Who knows the girl duos who share everything will even fall in love on the same guy like Rani and Priety singing Piya Piya. I suggest the guys to listen to “Ladki Kyon” only Saif’s part from Hum Tum to get a better idea what girls are made of.

I have no offence on girls. I respect girls, but only want to stress on the point everyone should maintain individuality as we all are different. We should be able to establish out own individual identity, shouldn’t we. If two people are alike then there will be no color in life, correct me if I’m wrong.

Geshan Manandhar

Around 450 Words

I don't have anything against girls but just trying to put things logically, as a girl read this article and labeled it 'nice' . I recommend comments and if a controversy starts I'm ready to face it.

Merry X-Mas

Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
Through the fields we go
Laughing all the way.
Bells on bob-tail ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight.

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, O
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.

Every kid (who is familiar to Christmas and Santa Claus) might be singing this carol and wishing and praying for all those lovely gifts and presents from Santa. After all many of them had been good all year and behaved very nicely. So every kid deserves something from Santa. But what about us? We, the so called grown up ones, haven't behaved well or does Santa presumes we can't behave good at all. That's why he doesn't order his elves to make presents for us. May be the later one is true. Santa has prejudiced thoughts regarding adults.

But as a child also I never got anything from him. He never ventured in my room to give me presents. (I didn't have chimney from where he can drop his gifts or come to put those gifts near my bedside but that can't be the reason for not getting any gifts.) May be Santa also discriminates on race, religion or colour. I never became Christian (I am agonist) and I am of Asian origin. May be I didn't meet his requirements so I wasn't given any gifts at all. But he made enormous error. Now there are many international and national laws to prevent such discrimination. So I am thinking to sue him and get all those gifts meant for me with extra gifts as punishment. But I guess I can't make his elves to work as punishment. So I have decided that he (Santa himself) would be making gifts for me all night this Christmas. But don't worry kids I would be riding his sleigh and handing over gifts to all children around the world. So behave well because I am keeping my eyes on you.

And good news for adults too, I am also going to give gifts to them. As a first gift, you have got this blog to read and enjoy. Plus there are other gifts too. You will get good party mood (in festival seasons only, mind it) and nice sleep all the year. Ain't that good enough????

So HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND SEASONS HOLIDAY TO ALL OF YOU HOHOHOHOHOHO

Garfield

Touch wood

We were once familiar with a tiny black cat which had the most beautiful green eyes. Since then, I've had a fondness for black cats. Number thirteen seems to have a vaguely positive aura about it, as does a lone magpie. Old wives tales are also more funny and entertaining than scary. But despite my bravado, there are some ridiculous traits that make me ridicule myself.

The first one involves eyelashes. I was taught by friends that a fallen eyelash was to be placed on the back of the left hand. Then, with shut eyes, one has to make a wish before blowing the lash away. The first time I must have aspired for something simple, like a glittering pencil or a toy bus. When that was granted, it became a regular habit. I had a cousin who used to tug at eyelashes, pulling apart whole bunches. Even now, I swipe them with my fingers when I'm particularly tense and want something desperately.

The most common one is that of the throat. Ages ago, my sister warned a wide-eyed me, "Always blow at your hands after touching the neck, otherwise you will have a terrible goiter." Long after she forgot it and I studied about iodine deficiency, the practice continues. Most people I see do follow this, though there are people like my uncle who snort instead; because they find it hilarious.

A special ritual of mine involves punching the pillow before bed. The number of time I smack the poor pillow is the time I wish to wake up. If I have to wake up at one a.m. to listen to a program, I punch it once. And I do wake up on the dot, because of an amazingly pliant body clock. But of course my pillow smugly takes the credit.

If you are a youngster, and particularly a girl, then you know what is to be done if two of you happen to say the same thing simultaneously. You have to touch the nearest wood surface, tap it twice and kiss your fingers for good luck. My sister, being extremely sarcastic of this method, satirizes," Why don't you sing along with a song and bang the table? That way we'll have good luck enough to last your life."

There is a friend of mine who may be laughing outrageously one moment, but stops abruptly and mutters in a grim tone,"Stop laughing. You'll have to cry for this later. If you laugh once, you have to shed two tears." His ideas, coupled with his ominous appearance, are enough to double us over with laughter.

I was rushing through homework in an empty classroom when I sneezed. Spontaneously, I mumbled,"God bless me." A classmate peeped in," You're acting weird. I believe I was only as weird as all those people who don't cut nails on their birthdays, or refuse to leave the house at twelve midday, or insist on particular clothes for certain days. There are people who won't joke about ghosts around midnight and others who believe that being untruthful with a book in your hand will sap away your knowledge (I am a staunch follower of this one). It is a wide world, as it is.

There is also a concept that one must not talk about anything until it is over and done with, especially if it deals with luck and chance. Right now I am in the middle of trying out a new recipe, but as for its completion - I'd have to touch wood.

By: Richa Bhattarai
Source : Kathmandu Post

Kartik arrived late for dogs, by two whole months!

By Sishir K. Rana

The polar ice caps are indeed melting! Global warming is not a hoax after all! I should stop reading and 'believing' those damn conspiracy theorists.

It rained today. It was only a drizzle. No, the rain didn't turn my hair green or burn holes through my jacket. It was just before it rained, just before I left for work, and just after I opened the gate. There she was—my dear bitch busy getting off in an orgy.

Man, those dogs were getting at it like there's no tomorrow. Well, it's understandable, given that their libido shoots up only once a year. And boy, do they shoot up frigging crazy or what? And it's understandable again, given that they strictly abstain for a whole year. I couldn't see my bitch—my sweet Pomeranian— being screwed up by six horny alpha males including my neighbor's hunky German Shepherd.

I was infuriated. I can watch a dozen rugged bikers taking turns for a foursome on a blonde chick in a porno flick; but this, no. I picked up a brick and hurled it at the black Labrador who was romping on my dear Pom like hell had just unleashed. The Lab yelped from pain and dragged my Pomey along with him.

"No, he didn't," I told myself and slung another piece of brick at the black devil. "No, he didn't," I told myself again. Then I realized, and I blushed. Duh! They're dogs—a work half done is getting stuck together 'down there' until the work is fully done.

I shooed away other testosterone dribbling beasts so that the Lab could finish off his business without constant interference. The dogs sniffed my bitch one last time and went away grumbling, stiff legged. They all gathered at a distance and drooled with anticipation.

It took longer than I anticipated. I was getting late for work. Family first and everything second I thought and decided to wait till they were able to 'come' out of each other. It took precisely 34 min and 26 sec give or take. Kicked off the Lab, stashed back the Pom, and went off to work.

On the way, I got to thinking. Riding a motorcycle alone for thirty minutes does give you a plenty of time to sing and lip-synch. Half way through, two 3 Doors Down, one Keith Urban and two Janis Joplin songs later, while I was doing a bad rendition of Me and Bobby McGee, I passed by what could only be a flashback of the smaller version of the morning's spectacle.

"Maybe that bitch wasn't attractive enough," I thought, a dog-owner's pride surging with paternal love.

When I arrived at the office gate, there were three dogs sniffing and growling at each other. "Where's the bitch?" I thought. "Is homosexuality really possible in animals," I started to ponder while parking my motorcycle.

There wasn't much work to do at the office, thanks to my colleague, who values his work ethics gravely. Maybe I can learn something from him, but I still can't put my finger on what it is.

Like I said, as there was no work, I decided—as always—to browse through the internet. There was this article on global warming on this website which gave helluva lot of information my indolent brain couldn't comprehend. All I understood was that global warming was a conspiracy cooked up by some crazy scientists stuck in Antarctica.

Ooh! Information overload. I looked over the window, and there it was again—an all too familiar sight.

I looked up the calendar to check on what day the New Year fell on. It was on Sunday and I said 'Yippee', but not too loudly. Actually, only to myself. I can't disclose why. Sensitive information!

Anyways, the picture of Machapuchre on the calendar was breathtaking, and the Fewa Lake, and the Lalu Pates, and Poush 9. "Poush!" I screamed. I mean, I almost screamed. How can it already be Poush? The all too familiar dogs-on-dog scenes since morning told otherwise. When did Kartik come and go?

I went back to finally finishing the article, and all of a sudden it struck me like a bolt of lightning. Duh! It's the global warming, silly. If dogs can sense impending earthquakes, surely they can sense global warming! Surely Kartik arrived two months late for them—those only-once-a-year horny bastards—in the middle of winter instead of autumn.

* Kartik and Poush are Nepali calendar months.
Kartik - starts mid October
Poush - starts mid December

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You can also read his articles at www.offthebeat.blogspot.com.

Everything finally fit like a condom

By Sishir K. Rana

Either Mars or some planet must be retrograde or my archenemy must be chanting voodoo and mixing lizard feet and monkey brains in his cauldron. The past couple of weeks have indeed been a series of unfortunate events.

First it was my motorcycle. I should have taken it for servicing the first time it didn't start. I had to take a cab back home that night. As we all know, there is no night life in Kathmandu, and I mean that literally. Traffic dies just after 8 pm, i.e., the public transport (the minis, micros and mini-micros) snooze off early, except for a couple of cabs with meters that run as fast as the cabs themselves on empty streets. Since I get off from work at 8 pm, it was at least Rs 150 for the fare way home.

That was about two weeks ago. Next day, I came back to the office on time (mind you, not earlier), took the bike to a workshop and had it fixed. Turned out, the spark plug was clogged with dirt. Well, I'm not surprised. The last thing you'd see me is with a sponge and a bucket of foam.

The bike was good and running, not until a week ago. First the cursing, then the cussing, and then an expensive ride home. Next day, it was the same routine. The spark plug needed to be cleaned. Doink! Who woulda thunk that?

Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. On that note, I took the bike to Jamal for servicing. But, alas, I was late by three whole hours. Procrastinator that I am, I thought, like always, "Maybe, umm..., next week."

Well, I guess the Lord above still wanted to teach me a lesson. The bike broke down again three days ago. I guess third time's a charm. So, I came back to the office early next morning—even before the early bird managed to make a shrill chirp—and took the bike for servicing.

Well, the series of unfortunate events didn't end there. Yesterday the bike started, but rattled crazy. Had to take to a workshop and have the chain tightened.

The biggest bomber was when we didn't get tickets for King Kong. Damn all the tickets, except for a few rows up in the front, were sold out. Even on a Monday afternoon. Zees! It took approximately 15 min for reality to hit me and my two other friends. Damn! We had been so anticipating watching the movie, like, for the past two weeks. And Monday's my only day off. Evening show was of the question (not being the night crawlers), we went to good ol' New road.

As we were about to step into our favorite Almond Restaurant, my variety loving mouth suggested Jeans. So we went there. The cafe took us completely by surprise. Not just the decor, which by the way looks like one of those sets of one of those Hindi tele-flicks, but the prices. And we all thought we would fill our I-am-so-hungry-that-I-could-eat-a-horse appetite with a 120 rupees pizza. It had the thinnest crust ever. It was like some grated cheese and a couple of thin capsicum rings topped over a naan.

P.s.: One of our friend's a vegetarian. And, pssst: I still don't understand vegetarians.

Anyways, the pizza and parathas only served to whet our appetite. No way was we to make further orders.

As expected of Space Time, all the cable channels were gone except for NTV Metro. Who watches NTV Metro? I decided to watch past episodes of Sex and the City. Alas, the DVD was not working. Tired of being surly, I hit the sack early that night after reading a bit of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath.

I woke up next morning in not so bright mood as usual. Had to go to the Transportation Office to get my Blue Book renewed and pay my dad's mobile phone bill.

Actually half the work was already done, or rather half the work didn't get done the other week at the Transportation Office. Well, you all know how Nepali Government offices are like, right? Went there and got the bill paid. Was then directed to room no. 10, and not in the least genial manner if I might add. By the time I found room 10, it was already 2 pm. The office window with Room 10 written with a ball pen on a piece of paper stared back at me sardonically.

Today, however, I went straight to Room 10. Got the blue book signed. I was then directed to other unnumbered room. I followed my instincts, asked a dozen people, and came upon a part of a hallway where there was a man with stamps. Got it stamped and whizzed to Nepal Telecom at Jawalakhel. The line was unbelievable, five of them in total—zigzag, serpentine and banana-shaped. Took quite a while to figure out where the queue started and where it ended. Anyways, like a true Nepali who has previously undergone innumerable bewildering experiences at government offices, I made it through.

I was surprised how things got done so efficiently. Maybe Mars or some other planet must have gone direct.

Back at my office, I looked up my weekly horoscope (in my free time of course). It said, "But this is only temporary - things should be back on track within a day or so."

In my own words, I'd like to say, "Today, everything finally fit like a condom."

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"Thanx to Sishir for providing us such good and humorous article. He has promised us with good articles in future course also. You can also read his write-ups at www.offthebeat.blogspot.com."