Markiv TAG Naraksahb

November 30, 2007 at 6:56 am | Posted in bong, King markiV returns | 4 Comments

Yet another tag… Not a highly imaginative one at that though- I prefer the types that throw in a question and let us manipulate that with randomized interpretations.

Now this one is apparently called the middle name tag. Since its the typing that does all the work I wish there was a tag for the Finger with a similar name….

I don’t think Mayth really wanted to read a literary genius here- as much as just checking for a pulse. Fair enough- Id do that too… More living known bloggers translates to more comments and more traffic. The trouble is NONE of you guys EVER care to even ACCIDENTALLY click on any of those MILLION colorful rectangular boxes that could one day make me a billionaire.

Ok that is an exaggeration. I do have a twenty dollar vapor hanging on the adsense. Thanks guys- now Im only short of $999999980!

Back to the tag- Im supposed to relate each alphanumeric in my middle name to me…. other than the fact that it is my middle name which is part of me.

Don’t have a mid name? Now worries- assign one for yourself. Can’t think of a word there? No issues again- just go ahead and create one. And drop a mail to so he can include it in his next edition.

The rules of the tag are:
1. The rules must be mentioned in the beginning of the tag.
Vatta RULE I say… Law number one is that law number 2 is a law…

2. You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. If you don’t have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
Now thats saying something. What if I dont have a middle name I already like? Can I go ahead and first like a name, then assign it? What if I have a name and I dont like it? Is this extra privilege reservation for the backward-non middle name makkals?

3. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Torture knows many faces

Ok. I don’t have a middle name. Yet.
Actually I have far too many people assigned ones, but filing that here would make websense ban my site for most of you who see thiruttu-blog on oc-office-internet.

Or you could consider Mark, The Second- Mark IV
where Mark would be the first name, Mark would be the last name, IV would be a valid suffix and The Second would be the middle name.

Does ‘The’ come down as a valid middle name?

Here goes the TAG:

S for Slick: In my younger days when lowly ignorant mortals addressed me as Vik, Slick Vik was kind of popular. I still don’t really remember the correlation- except for the phonetic rhyme. I still don’t really understand the significance- given the word Slick comes to my mind as an Oil Slick

E for esophagus: Thats a lot like the marketer that I am- a thin tube that takes in unprocessed good, adds a bit here, takes a bit off there, and delivers crap at the other end, in the process driving the entire machinery. Moreover it sounds like an amazing ancient roman name- Maximus, Darius…. Thinking of which- I know these guys were ancient but notice the similarities in naming between Leonardus and Tyrannosaurus!

C for Conbobulated: Random

O for Oh Shit: I should have taken an easier middle name

N for Not really: Am almost done here


Well done just to prove Im not dead… yet…
But honestly, either my thinking part has taken a hike or this tag is really torture…
Either way, I wouldn’t want to inflict such injury upon any of my good blog friends. Most of them at least.
Well- anyone who gets inspired here please feel free to carry the torch forward.
Except Santosh– Id really like to see you drain your thoughts on this!

Mayth- thanks again for your noble gesture. I hope you go to heaven and have a beautiful afterlife. You’re dead if I can find you now!

Infinite Infancy…. Happy Birthday to me…

November 13, 2007 at 10:14 am | Posted in bong, King markiV returns, life, work | 14 Comments

Im usually against merely accounting for one’s existence in one’s blog. Being born is truly an amazing feeling. I cannot imagine my life, if only I had not been born. Therefore my birthdays symbolize the pinnacle of achievement and duly deserve celebration.

However, its hard to find your environ adjust to these phenomena. I walk into the office, phone stuck to my ear, and get ready for the monotony I make money for. And in the place where my sparkling cubicle must have been, I find this- laptop et al…

A little running around to discover where my poor little electronics lay and finally I got it within my bounds. The key here is I was most amazed by my collegues’ trust in me- for starters, the planners were hitting dry wall till this morning when the idea to make my cube an extension of the dump came to their heads. The obvious trust that I would never cross the 10.30-11 barrier and knock in even a second earlier was truly overwhelming. More importantly, all the accumulated junk and the obvious bad stares were braved by them to gain a single moments’ satisfaction of my surprise. Had I bunked the day, they would have had to put in extra efforts to clear the mess up and answer weird stares as lesser mortals crossed the path. Yet their trust that I would turn up in any situation that could get me embarrassed is awe inspiring. This should stand testimony to the fact!

(the board reads “Go Home Vik!”. Go figure…)

Anyway, I ended up clearing my cubicle, getting rid of all that junk and making the place inhabitable again. If it were me arranging this invitation to someone else, I would have put in a little decomposing vegetable waste to make sure the entire cabin has to be fumigated before its fit to live in. But well, I guess there could be a slight possibility that the planners secretly wanted me to get back to work soon enough.

The worst part about birthdays, however, is that people assume that being as old as I am (the years must be catching on) birthdays shouldn’t have the significance they had a decade back. I noted fewer calls this year than the last three put together. And all from either friends whom I personally reminded to call me or those who still assume I’d turn 18 this year.

I asked my mom about the wonders I performed as an infant. Apparently my mom was advised by a friend to abort her second kid during the third month of pregnancy. My mom chose to ignore her reasoning- a decision she probably still regrets. I also inquired about the three wise men who knocked at our doors to tell my mom of the god-send that was to be born. She only remembers a Raa-Pichakaaran (night beggar). We were living pretty nomadic, shifting houses every few years, so the mix up is justifiable.

The day I was born is however truly like the hero intro part of a classic action movie (read Captain)… Power failure through the city, torrential rains and storms, dingy hospital… I also googled to check if the stars were in any spectacular arrangement that night. I guess the clouds obscured them from vision.

So on, I have succeeded in proving that I am a wonder boy, born to save the world from something. Its been two decades and three years since, and I’m still waiting to figure out what!

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