Dinner Of The Absurd

 Uncategorized
Aug 312006
 

And so, I am back. With plans — big ones — a Bangkok trav­el­ogue, sev­eral book reviews, the usual (at least a ) post a day promise, more Ileana pic­tures on the other blog, a short story, three nov­els and many, many such things I know you could care less about.

And so I am back, and what’s the first thing I read? Plans for a Sepia Mutiny meetup in Los Ange­les. A rare desi blog meet in this very coun­try, and where is it held? As far away from Florida as humanly pos­si­ble. Not a coin­ci­dence, I assure you: I know planned it that way.

In case you think I am over­re­act­ing, then how do you explain this: Peo­ple wait for me to leave Chen­nai, and the very next week, they hold some sort of Blog­Camp there. Clearly, it is part of a dis­trub­ing trend: Blog­gers just don’t want to meet me. I know my intel­lect can be a lit­tle off­putting to all you dum­b­asses, but still… You know what? Screw all you blog­gers. (Poor Manoj excepted, of course. The jerk meets me every­day so that he can have some­thing to laugh about with his new wife.) If you are a non blog­ger, the hot pic­tures are over on the other blog.

I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again now: My own blog meet, right down the street from my own home. At my favorite cof­fee shop, run by dear old Mandy and her hus­band, who were nice enough to give us exclu­sive access to the place for the whole evening…

Here are snip­pets from the meet…

________

Blog­gera: Smells cof­fee. Then tastes it. “Wow, this is great cof­fee. Ummm… just awe­some. What would the world be with­out coffee?”

Fal­staff: “A World With­out Cof­fee. 1. It would be illu­mi­nat­ing to con­sider what the word world means in this con­text. The world…

Blog­gera: “Excuse me, but that was a purely rhetor­i­cal ques­tion. I don’t really want to know what the world would be with­out coffee.”

Fal­staff: “Oh, I see. But can I fin­ish off this speech though? I only have 37 more bul­let items to go through. And then, about 18 footnotes.”

Blog­gera: “Please, no. Let me drink my coffee.”

Megha: “This cof­fee is cho chweet. Gleat.”

Blog­gerc­thruz: “What a thought­ful sentence.”

Sud­denly, mul­ti­ple rays of light emanate from her eyes.

Megha: “Don’t worry, that was my eyes twin­kling. Thankoo Blog­gerc­thruz. Thankoo cho cho much.”

Me: “I’ll be back guys. Gotta go pee.” Comes back in five min­utes. “So did I miss anything?”

Blog­gerb: “Umm.. not much. Megha got 18 more com­ments. Man­ish wrote four posts at Ultra­Brown, and made 3 releases of Rock­et­Post. Amit made 11 posts on his blog, and wrote an arti­cle each for Cricinfo and the Wall Street Journal.”

Me: “Damn. In other words, ink flowed out of their pens, while piss flowed out of mine?”

Eww. Groan. Puke. Good Lord.”

Uniden­ti­fied Young Man: The speaker is try­ing to make a joke. He is using the fact that pens and penises are shaped sim­i­larly. I don’t like the joke much because Amit and Man­ish use key­boards, not pens.

Me: “Any­ways, to be fair to myself, I did think of a post in the bath­room. In fact, I think of most posts when pee­ing, so I guess you could call me the num­ber one blog­ger in India.”

Amit: “Damn, that joke was too bad for even India Uncut.”

Kiru: “Wait a minute, does that man I am not the num­ber one anymore?”

Chenthil: “Of course not. Your blog sucks.”

Kiru: “If Himesh Resham­maiya can be the most pop­u­lar music direc­tor in India, why can’t I be the num­ber one blogger?”

Me: “Yeah, and let’s not for­get the national award for Amitabh Bachchan.”

Kiru: “Thank you!”

_____

Just then, a knock. I open the door, and much to my hor­ror, find an angry Jai flanked by Chan­dra­has and Ammani.

Me: “Why are you guys here? Who invited you? Jai, is your DVD player broke or some­thing? Chan­dra­has, don’t you have a book to review or a mat­tress to buy? Ammani, what about quick tale 156? Who’ll write it if you are here? Please leave.”

Ammani: “You ingrate. I blogrolled you and all, and you won’t even let me in? Jerk.”

Jai: “Yeah, what’s up with that?”

Me: “Ok, ok. To explain, I got to make a speech.

Quick Tale 1000.

She got into the ele­va­tor on the top floor. The well dressed young man got in on the next floor. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

The ele­veator stopped on the next floor down and another young man got in. He was dressed like a punkster, and didn’t return her smile.

After that, another floor. Another young man. She wasn’t sure about smil­ing, so she started fid­dling with her cell­phone instead. The third man smiles at the sec­ond man, and the sec­ond man returns his smile.

Ammani: “Go on.”

Me: “That’s it.”

Chan­dra­has: “I don’t mean to hurt your feel­ings, but that was pathetic.”

Ammani: “Hor­rid. So what’s your point any­way? Why didn’t you invite us?”

Me: “The point is, par­ody or no par­ody, I can’t really write like you guys. You write too well for me.”

All: “Aww.”

Me: “Any­ways, now that you are here, I’ll give you all non speak­ing parts. Why don’t you go sit by that man JAP there and watch with­out speak­ing? Oh, and thank you for not bring­ing Amardeep and Anna along.”

Jai: “Why is JAP sit­ting there all by himself?”

Me: “He is tak­ing notes on how bad everyone’s shoes are. Before you go to that table, I sug­gest you take off your watches and shoes, unless you want to be called a fash­ion chal­lenged cretin on tomorrow’s post.”

_____

Mean­while, Kiru strikes up a con­ver­sa­tion with Mandy.

Kiru: “Hi.”

Mandy: “Hello.”

Kiru: “Hmm.. so you own this establishment?”

Mandy: “Yes sir, that’s correct.”

Kiru: “Would it be accu­rate to call you the attrac­tive, self-made CEO of a grow­ing startup company?”

Mandy: “Maybe.”

Kiru: “I am India’s lead­ing blog­ger. Can I do a pod­cast with you?”

Mandy walks away, and returns with her husband.

Mark: “So who here wanted to do some­thing dirty to my wife?”

Kiru: “Pod­cast­ing is not some­thing dirty sir. I can do it with you too. I will then post it on the internet.”

Mark: “Do it and then post it on the inter­net? What the fuck? Do I look like Paris Hilton to you? Get out of here now!”

Uniden­ti­fied Young Man: “This con­fu­sion arose because of the unfa­mil­iar­ity of this gen­tle­man with the word pod­cast­ing. Since he didn’t know the word, he assumed it meant some­thing dirty.”

Me: “Dude, why do you keep stat­ing the obvi­ous all the time? Who are you?”

Uniden­ti­fied Young Man: “My name is Patrix. I run Desipun­dit.

Me: “Ah, that explains it.”

Nilu: “Puke.”

Me: “Is that all you can do? Puke?”

Nilu: “No, I can also talk about prime numbers.”

Me: “That is bor­ing. What else?”

Then­na­van: “Oh, I also know a lot about prime num­bers.” Widens cheeks, and holds pose.

Me: “What’s that for?”

Then­na­van: “That is a smi­ley. It’s always safe to throw in a few when you are talk­ing. So, I know a lot about prime num­bers. I love Chen­nai, I also love India. When will I find a girl to love?”

Nilu: “Please excuse me, but I need to do this first. Puke. I can also write erotica.”

Me: “Damn, that’s excit­ing. Give us an example.”

Nilu: “The aun­tie was chop­ping onions in the kitchen. The kids were out play­ing cricket. Uncle comes into the kitchen, and lifts up auntie’s saree. They then roll on the floor, back and forth, back and forth. Up and down, up and down. When he is done, uncle is cry­ing, because of all the onions that got into his eye. Later, when aun­tie serves cof­fee to uncle, he flicks away an onion stuck to her ear. She blushes.”

Jai: “I feel a bit nau­seous myself.”

Ammani: “Thanks for not invit­ing us.”

Me: “Wow. You should stick to puking.”

Patrix: Onions cause one to tear up, because they con­tain oxalic acid. Although peo­ple shed tears when they come into con­tact with onions, they are not actu­ally crying.”

Nilu: “Dou­ble puke.”

Uniden­ti­fied Young Man 2: I, find, all„„this„,very„„„funny;

Me: And who might you be, young man?

Blog­gerj: “That’s Saket. Also known as Vul­turo. Occa­sion­ally, he is known to punc­tu­ate his com­mas with some words.”

___

Me: “This is such a bor­ing blog meet. Le’ts talk about some­thing interesting.”

Amit: “Cows?”

Kaps: “Let’s talk about blog­ging. I read some­where that to be a suc­cess­ful blog­ger, you have to write 365 posts a year. My ques­tion is, what does one do dur­ing leap years?”

Me: “I said talk about some­thing interesting.”

Amit: It is a log­i­cal fal­lacy to assume that what is inter­est­ing to you will be inter­est­ing to other people.”

Me: “Well, hmm…”

Amit: “Do you dis­agree. God, I wish this was my blog. I would’ve linked to eigh­teen dif­fer­ent Latin terms on Wikipedia to prove you wrong.

Actio per­son­alis moritur cum per­sona.

Pacta sunt ser­vanda.

Sine qua non.”

Fal­staff: Ears perk up on hear­ing some Latin. “What a phrase! Actio per­son­alis moritur cum per­sona. So lyri­cal, so poetic. I love poetry in other languages.

Amit: “Um well, that was a legal phrase. But whatever…”

Me: “Maybe we can talk about Hair? What do you guys think about the whole $500000 thing?

Neha: I love to talk about hair. Have I told you about how poetry altered my hairstyle?

Me: “Only a hun­dred times. But I was not talk­ing about that hair.”

Annie Zaidi: “How mean! Men are pigs. All men are morons.”

Dilip: “What a thought pro­vok­ing state­ment. That makes you a fine journalist.”

Great­Bong: Clears throat.

Blog­gerathruzand­someothers: “Ha, Ha, Ha. Hilarious.”

Great­Bong: “Shut up guys, this is seri­ous stuff. So, Dilip, tell us how call­ing all men morons makes one a fine journalist?”

Dilip: “Oh a dif­fi­cult ques­tion. How I wish this was my blog — I could’ve buried this one under a del­uge of posts.”

Great­Bong: “So ?”

Dilip: “Good­bye!”

___

And just as quickly as they came, every­one was gone.

PS: Please, please, don’t remove me from your blogrolls. That would break my heart. I love you all. Well, sorta.

  46 Responses to “Dinner Of The Absurd”

  1. Wel­come back and yes, the other blog is wait­ing for those Illeana pictures!

  2. ROFL. Loved the ones about Kiruba, Patrix and Nilu. You have missed out your friend and blog­ger in sab­bat­i­cal, lazygeek ;)

    Sil­ver­screen has been left with cold for long time with­out hot Ileana pic­tures. You are the ray of hope.

    » Manoj’s new wife
    oh that explains the pend­ing wIP posts in his blog for months.

  3. Ggrr. Know­ing how talk­a­tive I am — Do you really think I would be sat­is­fied with mouthing just one line?

  4. Excel­lent come­back post! But I must strongly deny ever hav­ing used a phrase like “Yeah, what’s up with that?” in con­ver­sa­tion. Also, uncle-aunty-sex-on-onions doesn’t make me nau­seous (though uncles and aun­ties do).

  5. Wel­come back! You’ve been watch­ing quite keenly dur­ing all that silence. The humour’s intact.

  6. How come you missed mak­ing a ref­er­ence to the ‘longest com­ment in the Desi Blo­gos­phere’ and the ‘post-modern Mahab­harat’? Inquir­ing minds always want to know!

    Good one, Karthik! Wel­come back!

  7. Acute obser­va­tions. Lovely post :-)

  8. hmm.…ennamo po, apdi ipdinnu periya aal ayitte…

  9. Actu­ally, if you think about it, Actio per­son­alis moritur cum per­sona is fairly poetic.

    1. It trans­lates as a per­sonal action dies with the per­son — in other words, the good [that men do] is oft interred with their bones. Now, why does that sound famil­iar [1]?

    2. It does scan well —

    a) the Actio at the begin­ning cre­ates imme­di­acy, but also echoes the Latin root accio, which is a sum­mons [2], thereby focussing atten­tion on the speaker.

    b) The rep­e­ti­tion of ‘per­sona’ in per­son­alis and per­sona sug­gests a pun or a play on words,

    c) The moritur in the mid­dle invokes death and brings in a strong minor chord

    d) Finally, it splits nicely down the mid­dle — actio per­son­alis / moritur cum per­sona (7 syl­la­bles, 7 syl­la­bles) with a fairly neat inver­sion of the stresses.

    [1] Just in case: It’s Shake­speare, Julius Cae­sar Act 3, Scene 2

    [2] Made pop­u­lar, of course, by the Harry Pot­ter series.

    Now let’s see, that’s just 16 more foot­notes and 33 more bul­let points to go.…

  10. LOL all the way through. I see a few weeks in Madras has done you good.

  11. OMG that was too funny. Hilar­i­ous stuff

  12. Won­der­ful Post :D

  13. I’m sorry! I had no idea that you were in LA and wanted to attend a meetup! Trust, I know how bad Florida is. I’ll make sure to take lots of pic­tures and make it feel as if you are at the Sepia Mutiny meetup. :-)

  14. […] Karthik holds a blog meet with all his favourite(?) blog­gers. [Hat tip: Lavanya] […]

  15. LOL! Hilar­i­ous. I love these vir­tual blog meets.

    But then again, that is stat­ing the obvi­ous. So I’ll slink away.

  16. Karthik, good job for a 1.0 version “:-)”

  17. You’re a giant. Well done, this is most fun, and if you ever are present at a blog meet, it had bet­ter live up to this!

  18. Stuff hap­pens. One more blog-meet and not only could I not find any morons to diss, they served nei­ther Irish cof­fee nor vodka Camparis.

    I did, how­ever, man­age to find one instance of the use of “who” instead of “whom”, but by that time I was so dis­tressed by the gen­eral accept­abil­ity of the footwear that I passed out on the table.

    Karthik, I feel neglected.

    I shall go and mope about it on my blog.

    Even­tu­ally.

    J.A.P.

    P.S. Zoopairb, sorr!

  19. […] Do I, occas­sion­ally, of course, punc­tu­ate my com­mas — or dashes for that mat­ter — with words? Rather. Blog­gers Blo­gos­phere Fun Karthik Share and Enjoy:These icons link to social book­mark­ing sites where read­ers can share and dis­cover new web pages. […]

  20. Lol, I’ve never read a fun­nier post about other blog­gers, damn it was good.

    NY?

  21. heh. Great post!

  22. Thanks every­one for all the kind words, and poetry pars­ing and moping.

    Jai: See, I told you I can’t write like you. And Fal­staff, I knew you wouldn’t let me down :)

    JAP: Next year, a full speak­ing part, I promise. Now stop mop­ing, and write a post for us.

    Amit — thanks … that was high praise.

    Abi — I remem­ber the longest com­ment thing, but what was it about the post-modern Mahabharatha?

  23. Since I am the arbiter now, I declare that you are The Top Blogger

  24. Why wasn’t I invited?

    Only polit­i­cal , lit­er­ary , jour­nal­is­tic and eco­nomic blog­gers were invited?

    :(

  25. Annie Zaidi: “How mean! Men are pigs. All men are morons.”

    Dilip: “What a thought pro­vok­ing state­ment. That makes you a fine journalist.”

    Great­Bong: Clears throat.

    Blog­gerathruzand­someothers: “Ha, Ha, Ha. Hilarious.”

    Great­Bong: “Shut up guys, this is seri­ous stuff. So, Dilip, tell us how call­ing all men morons makes one a fine journalist?”

    Dilip: “Oh a dif­fi­cult ques­tion. How I wish this was my blog — I could’ve buried this one under a del­uge of posts.”

    Awe­some!! ROFL!!

  26. Absolutely hilar­i­ous!

    Loved the dig at Kiruba and his pod­cast and Then­na­van and his smi­ley faces.

    And Quick Tale 1000 is wonderful.

  27. Damn that smi­ley within HTML tag-like brack­ets fell thru the cracks; Here we go: U 2 Ammani [:-(]

  28. Let me also gen­tly remind you that Uncle and Aunti’s saree’s busi­ness is my imag­i­na­tion! Not Nilu’s! :)

  29. Where am I? HELLO? YOU WROTE ABOUT SHOES AND DIDN’T MENTION ME? WHAT? YOURE OFF MY BLOGROLL! A CURSE ON YOUR SHOES

  30. Was laugh­ing out loud as I read this :)

    Espe­cially the bit about Fal­staff :)

  31. for­get the blog camp did you meet any one when you were in Madras?

  32. I, find, all„„this„,very„„„funny;

    Out­stand­ing post K, wel­come back.

  33. That was a great come­back post.. Wait­ing to read more :)
    Why not make this a series like “mokkarasu nayyandi” in Anandha vikatan? Make the pop­u­lar blog­gers meet vir­tu­ally with their lat­est posts under spot­light :)
    “Oor rendu patta koothadikku kon­daat­tam. Koothadinga rendup­patta oorel­lam kon­daat­tam :) “.

  34. hey, com­ing here the first time! and if i were blog­ging still, or if/when i get back to it, u get on the blogroll! :)

    cheers!

  35. Bril­liant stuff. Hope more episodes are in the offing.

  36. That was the best post I came across in recent times. Hats off!!!

  37. absolutely hillar­i­ous

  38. Haha! Indi­ans do have a sense of humour… thank god!

  39. Gau­tam, next time.

    Shoe­fiend, there was no Kuru­sowa with Sake on the menu, so I fig­ured you wouldn’t be inter­ested ;)

    theoth­ernilu: So sorry, next time we’ll invite you instead of Nilu.

    Bart, series is a good idea — maybe once a year ;) It will prob­a­bly become very bor­ing if I start doing it regularly.

    Tilo, I met Chan­dra­c­hoodan, but thats about it.

    And every­one else, thanks.

  40. Phew!.. Rock­ing Post!
    Guess only you can get away with it !

  41. Some­one just pointed me here … I would just like to say that I did not attend this blog­meet. Since you say I did, please show me where and when I did. The exact words, please. No eva­sions. Come on, you can do it.

  42. wow! i rolled on the floor laugh­ing. hilar­i­ous man!

  43. Dilip, You are a genius!

  44. […] of Stochastica.net has organ­ised his own vir­tual blog meet, “right down the street from my own home. At my favourite […]

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