Posted in Uncategorized on March 2, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

Yayy!! I think TypePad is off the Telecom Dept's blacklist. Whoopee!!! :D
:D :D

Advertisements

Posted in Uncategorized on March 2, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

I have no idea what's wrong with the Department of Telecom. They've gone ahead and blocked TypePad. Now, the only way I can access it is if I click on the link in my FB profile, then go to the main page of the site. What the bloody hell is going on??!!

Mashed Potatoes

Posted in Mashed Potatoes with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

I have so much to write about today. If I were to write about them individually, they’d form at least 2 different blog entries. I’m lazy. So there.

The Messenger by Daniel Silva – Good book. Stupid ending. You spend 400 pages on infiltrating Jihad Inc., kill off the Villain 1 in two pages, Villain 2 in three pages – man, that’s worse than Voldemort’s death! On the other hand, nothing could be worse than Voldemort’s death. But the end showed quite a few bits of sheer stupidity. Like how the protagonist was willing to kill off Villain 1’s maybe-wife just because she was his maybe-wife and probably knew that he was a terrorist (even though the only thing she seemed to be interested in was going to the salon and getting her hair done), but how Villain 2’s definite-daughter was allowed to live, who would know that he backs up major terrorist activities and who was left standing over her father’s dead body, screaming for revenge.

And those are not my words.

Yes, the author was looking for a new character for another book. Nadia the Villain. Born of sheer stupidity on the protagonist’s part. Or, as MFG puts it, a case of writer’s block. C’mon, the maybe-wife with the hair obsession could’ve been a villain!

‘The mysterious stranger rose out of the ocean, her blonde(?) hair shining in the sun. The face was slightly familiar. She took a caprioska from the shack and sipped on it slowly, her blue eyes darting about. The place was perfect. Soon she’d avenge the death of her not-husband, and only on that day would she step into the salon and get her hair done.

Revenge is a dish best served in a tropical setting.’

One of the Worst Things – You know, one of the worst things you could ever see is your mom crying. My maternal grandmom’s not well. Actually, that would be quite an understatement. But she has her good days. And bad days. Her graph is a curve that goes *zoom up* and *zoom down*, and every weekend her graph dips quite a bit.

This is a weekend.

Today, my mom’s eyes were red when I went to the hospital. She tried to put it off on the cold and stuff and blah. Grandmom not really responding. Mom crying. I wanted to bawl my eyes out. I want to bawl my eyes out. I just want my grandmom to get better and my mom to stop being sad. And my aunt. It’s sometimes so hard to keep up a nonchalant exterior.

How Bollywood Is Screwing With My Brain

Posted in Weird Tales with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 8, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

I had the weirdest dream last night.

Now, generally, I do have weird dreams. Dreams in which i'm falling from mountains/waterfalls, getting lost in jungles/mazes/compendium of buildings, dreams within dreams a la Inception. But yesterday I had a truly freaky dream.

No, sorry, nightmare.

The setting was very realistic. It was my house. I was sitting on my bed and reading. For some reason there was a tailor on the rear balcony, stitching away to glory. I got up and went to the front door and heard footsteps. I looked through the peephole and saw two huge, hairy guys – one of whom looked suspiciously like Himesh Reshammiya. The Himesh doppelganger decided to peek through the peephole. I screamed nightmare! in my head and ran back to my room. After five minutes I came out and saw those two hairy apes in my living room!

Hain??

I told them to leave. They ignored me. It freaked me out like crazy. Yes, having huge hairy strangers in your living room, who got in without making absoutely any noise at all, is freaky. I ran to our neighbour's house for help. Mr. Neighbour (same name, different person, I think from some reject villain hell) said he'd help me out, but first I had to touch everyone's feet – you know, the one that's supposed to humiliate rather than show respect – and I had to start with the youngest kid, who looked about 3 years old and totally unlike his real grandkid, and move on to a few hundred chacha-chachis, taya-taijis, the like. Okay, about 20.

At this point, even my dream self said what the bladdy faaack?!! I tried lifting my middle finger, but since I was still dreaming and had to follow a script (presumably), I touched everyone's feet, true Alok Nath ishtyle, browbeaten and humiliated. I went downstairs and found that both the goons had disappeared. Then Mr. and Mrs. Neighbour came down to assert themselves. By this point even my dream self was sick of the whole effin thing and banged the door in their faces.

At which point I mercifully woke up.

The. End.

Breakfast at Voldy’s

Posted in Silly Tales with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 26, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

Today's breakfast was a fiasco. Fiasco at 10 a.m. My mom is visiting my grandmom for a day. So, while I'd had lunch outside yesterday and dinner was already made, breakfast was the one thing I had to contend with. Now, breakfast – easy-peasy, eh? What could be simpler than bread and butter, maybe a glass of milk – all that you need, isn't it?

*da-da-daaaaaa*

Enter Dad.

My dad and (paternal) grandmom had already had breakfast by the time I woke up, so it was just me who was left. Options – bread, butter, nutella, eggs. I could've just toasted a couple of slices of bread and had them with nutella. But my dad had an idea.

Enter Chips 'n Eggs.

Now, Chips 'n Eggs was something my dad had at his cousin's place when he was staying over. It was supposedly really good and different. He immediately calls up my aunt (whose birthday is today btw), and the conversation proceeds something like this:

Dad: "Hey! Happy birthday! Listen, how did you make that recipe…………."

For the first time, I felt like I was in '8 Simple Rules'.

So, after wishing her happy birthday personally and thanking her for what would be my breakfast in 10 minutes, I proceeded to keep aside all the ingredients I'd need.

 

Here's the recipe:

2 eggs

Butter

Chips (I used salted)

Salt and Pepper to taste

Personalize it your taste by adding your favourite condiments. I wanted to use oregano and cheese. Yes, wanted. Yes, couldn't.

It's simple to make. Put a dab of butter on the pan. Layer the chips without crumbling them. Break the eggs on the chips and spread the albumin, which will bind the chips to the base. If you want a sunny-side up, don't flip. Spread oregano and grated cheese. Finally add salt and pepper. Easy, isn't it?

That's where the fiasco began.

I put the butter on the pan. Next step – I crumbled the chips. While I was about to crack the eggs, dad enters the kitchen and finds crumbled chips on the pan. He tells me, a good 5 minutes after explaining the whole recipe to me, that I was not supposed to crumble the chips but layer them whole. Now, I'd already crumbled a sizeable amount. We had a small tiff, after which I put whole chips also on the pan. Now I had a mini-mountain of salted potato chips roasting in butter. I didn't really mind – I like chips. Next step – the eggs. I cracked the first one pretty well. Yeehah! The second one went awry and part of the albumin looked like a waterfall tumbling off the side of the pan, into the inner sanctum of hell. I hate cleaning up egg. Anyhow, it fell on another pan which I set aside for cleaning. When I came back, my dad was standing in front of the pan with a knife in his hand, and my fried eggs looked as if something had died!

Caught red-handed with the murder weapon, mister!

10 seconds ago it looked beautiful. Now, it looked a horrible mess of white and orange. After getting into my 'Not At All Nice Mode' and asking my dad to leave my breakfast alone, I realized I had to do damage control. Alas! I was too late. My eggs looked… well… dead! Again, the feeling of being in '8 Simple Rules' came over me.

I just put salt and pepper and flipped it over. Warmed a couple of bread slices and spread nutella. Something told me that if I put oregano on my whatever-it-was-now, I could say 'Happy Republic Day!', but it was too late. The oregano and cheese was put away for next time.

 

How did the eggs taste?

Rubbery. I think I cooked it slightly longer than I should have. Plus oregano and cheese would've made it amazing, but that's for next time, with my mom in charge of the kitchen.

 

How was the bread?

I loved it! I love you, nutella!

 

How is the kitchen now?

It will survive.

 

Next on list: Eggless pancakes! ^_^

Posted in Uncategorized on January 19, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

This is in memory of Kaali, my cute stray dog. I found out today that she passed away a few days ago due to something getting stuck in her throat. I wish she hadn't had such a painful death. I wish that I had been there so that we could've taken her to the doctor. She was a sweetheart and mom and I gonna miss her so much.

Love you Kaali! You'll be loved and remembered forever.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 18, 2011 by mmeeviloverlord

In the end, everyone is a human being.

Everyone has feelings. Emotions.

Everyone feels happiness. Everyone feels pain.

Joy. Sorrow. It's part of everyone's life.

Even the strongest person feels weak sometimes.

And there's a lion hidden somewhere even in the weakest one.

It's not like you're a human being and the other person's a robot.

Just because someone has a great deal of patience doesn't mean they would never want to chuck things at you.

Just because you have never seen someone hurt does not mean that they don't feel it.

It's there in everyone.

Everyone wishes to have that person who can see the pain in their eyes while everyone sees the smile on their lips.

Everyone wishes to have that person who understands them through and through.

Everyone wishes for love and support. For that one person who accepts them at their worst. Who understands why they are at their worst in the first place.

I am also part of this grand milieu.

I am someone. I am part of everyone.

I have a body, a soul. Feelings. Emotions.

I am strong. I am weak. I am more than what people know.

I am me.