tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85081412009-09-22T02:45:02.636-07:00FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1138289645693539872006-01-26T07:33:00.000-08:002006-01-26T07:34:05.706-08:00

Did you notice that two eyes on the same face never look exactly the same? For that matter, no two ears, hands, legs, boo.. [ok, you get it right..] on one person look the same. I accepted that long time back, almost about the time I started spending a few hours in front of the dressing mirror preening myself with my sister looking sternly saying ‘don’t squint’ from beside. [I swear, I wasn’t, at

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1137651366234626972006-01-18T22:15:00.000-08:002006-01-18T22:16:06.250-08:00

“The whole problem with the world is about trying to be different. Every person wants to be different from the next person he meets. Stop trying to be different, try being yourself for a change.” <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> “But that’s impossible.” <!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--> <!--[endif]--> “No, of course not. It is possible. Try being yourself.” <!--[if !

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1128615284547283392005-10-06T09:14:00.000-07:002005-10-06T09:14:44.556-07:00

My!! Don’t I write so sparingly and intermittently! No, that doesn’t make me lazy. That makes me a woman with a lot of social life that keeps me so busy that I cannot get anywhere close to a computer other than to look up directions to go to all the places I go. NOT!! Most of the time I just spend blowing thought bubbles into the air, which burst the moment they come in contact with reality, or

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1127869746164441112005-09-27T18:08:00.000-07:002005-09-28T13:04:15.073-07:00

Trrriiiing triiing. Chirpy voice: Hey baby, how have you been? Me: Oh! Don’t ask!! Depressed, if you want one word for an answer. And if you don’t care on the count of words [beware, because I am quite notorious for being redundantly superfluous], then greatly annoyed and frustrated and irritated to no end about this problem xyz and in the mood to kick someone’s ass for absolutely no

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1122587675089989072005-07-28T14:53:00.000-07:002005-07-28T14:55:37.263-07:00

if only..everything was white and blackand nothing ever went a whacknever a trace and not a trackof hostility or adverse flacknever a hurry always slacklooking forward never back.....but! oh!!!there is always grayand things often go astraybelligerency to one's dismayalways seems to find its wayalas! disorder and disarraystrewn all over everyday[bored to death, hence rhyming!!]

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1122580700305260782005-07-28T12:58:00.000-07:002005-07-28T12:58:46.106-07:00

away away, far awaythe mind wanders every dayis there a will? is there a way?am i living a dull cliche?

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1122002725112836482005-07-21T20:24:00.000-07:002005-07-21T20:25:25.120-07:00

Did you ever come across people who think so like you? you start off saying “I so agree with you”, “I know!!”, “Oh My God!! you are so like me!” “You must be my alter ego” and then shut up after a while because you dont want to risk sounding fake. [cut cut] But yet internally you are just thrilled at the prospect of finding your soulmate. You talk about pretty much everything under the sun at jet

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1121356632425522762005-07-14T08:56:00.000-07:002005-07-14T08:57:27.210-07:00

At the crack of night, Funnycide woke up and stretched her bony self, while knocking off a few things off the bedside table. The jangling sound really woke her up.“Damn it! Another f*&^@ing damn night!! I hate this! I hate this!!” She cursed under her breath. She stretched herself and one of her cides cramped up immediately. Imperfecto Incepto!! On the other hand, it was a perfect night,

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1119626651080429922005-06-24T08:21:00.000-07:002005-06-24T08:29:33.446-07:00

Once upon a time [don’t they all start like this!!] there was a King, a Maharaja. He was a very prosperous King, won many battles, accumulated a lot of wealth, and kept all this folks happy and all that jazz. One day, he asked his courtiers, for lack of anything better to do, what the ultimate happiness in life is? His courtiers came up with different answers, wealth said one,

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1118983817921368682005-06-16T21:49:00.000-07:002005-06-16T22:22:37.736-07:00

Warm wind blew gently on my face, playing with two rowdy curls that managed to escape the little scrunchy that tied them all together in an attempt to get some order in the chaos. My blue scarf sashayed in the wind, wildly ecstatic in the newfound liberty. It waved happily to my fellow sojourners, announcing them of the unbounded happiness. A few cars sped past me, in a hurry to get to wherever

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1116461592148506862005-05-18T17:12:00.000-07:002005-05-18T17:13:12.156-07:00

For most people who do sedentary jobs sitting in cubicles with the computer as the best friend, snacking has become a favorite time-kill. Most days when I am not running between the two buildings at work for meetings, I find myself voracious an hour or so after lunch. I find myself walking subconsciously towards the vending machine for either a soda or a bag of chips. It is equally bad for people

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1115967099908826272005-05-12T23:47:00.000-07:002005-05-17T09:47:49.620-07:00

Seven Samurais - The Introduction Characters: Lanky: Thus known for the invariably lanky legs. It just happened to rhyme with hanky-panky.Madsy: Sometimes also referred to as Mad Hatter in days of yoreWishy: The craziest one of the lot. We did not know it would get only worse.Bossy: Felt obligated to live up to her name.Sulky: Perennially PMS-ing. We wish we could blame it on the

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1112253834165466172005-03-30T23:23:00.000-08:002005-03-30T23:28:19.533-08:00

As my body hits the posturepedic mattress a surge of bitter sweet pain rushes through muscles as they relax and unwind for the first time in almost 16 hours. What a hectic day!! Sadly, it aint any different from yesterday nor from the day before. The last time I checked the time was when the alarm went off at 8 in the morning [yes, trust me, some people need an alarm to wake up at 8 too, read on]

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1112144004684683192005-03-29T16:44:00.000-08:002005-05-18T10:41:08.930-07:00

“How could she shake hands with your father? Chee chee, no respect for elders at all. And what was that dress she wore? Doesn’t she have a single decent chudidhar to wear? And on top of it she says she likes to wear what she is comfortable in, she thinks sarees are exposing?” Amma wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brows as she muttered. Normally I find it really funny when she does that, but not

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1109886142914345362005-03-03T13:41:00.000-08:002005-03-03T15:39:50.403-08:00

We waited very anxiously at the restaurant. She looked all composed and collected but I could see that she is trying her mighty best to control the urge to bite her nails. It is hard to escape the fact that she was tense and excited. I was numb. Should I be excited, for her? I don’t know. But there is an absolute lack of emotion on my part. Maybe that is not completely true. Whenever she glanced

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1109228241888211632005-02-23T22:56:00.000-08:002005-02-23T22:57:21.896-08:00

An old shoe is like a good friend. It has been with you through rain and shine. It knows your ups and downs. It is well broken into and takes you in your stride. And you know where it pinches. You might have a whole lot of shiny, brand new shoes – sexy, strappy sandals, high-heels, open-toes etc but whenever you feel blue or you need comfort and solace you go back to the good old shoe. That is

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1108441400803242792005-02-14T20:20:00.000-08:002005-02-14T20:23:20.810-08:00

My head throbbed violently. Sanjay has been talking for the last half hour nonstop about why the implementation I just suggested will not work, come what may. Most of the words just missed their mark as they whizzed past my ears. The only sound I can hear is a loud thumping noise in my head. “Sirf ek Saridon aur sar dard sey araam..” the jingle ringed in my ears amid the loud thumping of the

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1106889436124368572005-01-27T21:16:00.000-08:002005-01-27T21:56:41.643-08:00

I hit ‘Print’ on the document just as I dashed off to catch the shuttle to the airport. I planned to pick up the papers from the printer on the way. I am quite organized and planned that way. No extra step is ever walked if it can be avoided. If I really am organized and planned like I just was swanking in the previous couple of lines, then I would not be dashing to the airport, like I am doing

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1106864192265579222005-01-27T14:12:00.000-08:002005-01-27T14:25:30.676-08:00

After reading a hoard of articles on dating from "Love and Zen: Tips to finding Mr. Right" to "18 Body Language Clues to tell that he is interested" there I sat, sweating about my date tomorrow. No, it ain’t my first date [well, first date with this guy actually] but it might as well be. Dating according to the-very-Indian me is not something that gets better with experience. Well, maybe there

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1102155039578282652004-12-04T02:09:00.000-08:002008-04-28T09:34:47.907-07:00

I throw the covers over myself and try to merge into the darkness created by the thick sheets. The faint, dull light streaming from the bedside lamp gets interrupted at the blankets, but I can see the play of bright and dull shadows on my closed eyelids, taking inhuman forms, like demons in my mind. By closing my eyes I thought I can force the threatening tears marching forth to retreat back to

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1100278463814413142004-11-12T08:39:00.000-08:002004-11-12T08:54:23.813-08:00

Hi fellow bloggers, Just some pictures to give you the feel of Deepawali. The pictures are not great and my hand shook (darn all those loud explosions!!) while I took them.. Right now, my eyes are completely glazed out and all I hear is a popping sound in my ears!! It was worth all that and some more. :)) Muggu House Kahin Deep Jale Kahin Dil ;) WMD - Weapons of Marvellous Delight

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1100052752083034062004-11-02T18:11:00.000-08:002004-11-09T18:28:56.906-08:00

My sister (and bil) bought this amazing and cozy townhome and since in the US the homes are dis-proportionately big for a couple I decided to move in with them... to justify all the space... but moving from the apartments into the townhome was a big change for us.. (almost the same we felt when sis and I moved from school in the city to the 'burbs).. we befriended our immediate next door

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1100052633963704442004-10-30T18:04:00.000-07:002004-11-09T18:14:56.803-08:00

I have to admit (albeit a little sheepishly) that I was quite a sucker of thumbs till a ripe age of 5... Now I can only imagine what my poor ma must have gone through in those few years. Stories go that she tried everything to get me out of the habit, the bitter stuff, the bandages/wraps etc, threatens to tell all my friends in school about it and so and so forth.. some of them worked for a few

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1098365234264885642004-10-21T06:18:00.000-07:002004-10-21T06:29:49.900-07:00

i remember... the softness of your wrinkled skin the silky satiny feel the serene prayers you muttered before every meal your silly remarks and funny jokes made us clap in glee you danced and played and fulfilled our every wish and plea everyday we followed you regiously on your usual village rounds and when you halted at the candy store our happiness knew no bounds Yet secretly we counted

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8508141.post-1097527901145356372004-10-11T13:47:00.000-07:002004-10-12T12:57:39.923-07:00

"...So I pause and I wait and I listen, For one more sound, For one more lovely thing That the hills might say! The hills are alive With the sound of music...." Previous A loud, rumbling, rolling sound filled the air like thunder - drowning the crooning voice of Maria - only that it never ceased. The dirt rose up into the air as the big driller went into work. The roaring was deafening. 'Oh!

FunnyCidehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18273891621214810339noreply@blogger.com6